Dezmando's Multigenre Mashup Smackdown Anthology

Forget The Past when I'm With You

Finnegan sat beside his partner on a leather couch in their base as they cleaned and reloaded their guns.

"It's a shame we're leaving now. This is a nice seat, I could fall asleep right here."

"Alyosha, when do you ever think of anything but sleep?" Finney asked.

"We've been stuck in this forsaken country for two years and I haven't got a decent sleep the entire time," He sighed.

"Well, yeah, but don't focus on it too much, you'll end up like Jay–

–I heard that!"

"Anyway, what's your hometown like, you got a girl?"

"Yeah," He slung the weapon over his shoulder as he stood up. "I would give anything to see her beautiful face right now..."

"What's she like?"

"Well," he began as they walked out of the building in a line of hundreds of soldiers, "she's got short curly black hair and big brown eyes, and she has a stutter that gets real bad when she's angry..."

———

Ashes filled the sky, fully covering a once bright blue with a depressing gray; a fitting atmosphere.
They had won the war, but the casualties were too many to count. There would be no celebrating. Not today.

Finnegan walked among the debris with nothing on his mind but the weight of a box filled with dog tags.
He didn’t look at the bodies' faces, nor did he pay any attention to their names. He'd even hoped that the next body would be unrecognizable so maybe he could pretend that everyone he knew was still out there somewhere, alive.

So one by one, he carefully takes their tags off and adds them to the box, a heavy feeling settling into his chest, and swelling up to form a lump in his throat.
He took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, again and again.

By the time he was done, the sun sat just above the peak of a mountain. He stood up from the last person, looking around.
He was closing the box to begin the trek back to the camp when he noticed two flowers by his feet in an upright position, not a single petal missing, a scarlet red.

'Of course the only beautiful thing to have survived this would be the color of blood.'

Finnegan startled awake in his rocking chair, still holding a book in his hand from when he fell asleep. His heart pounded as the memories he'd forced down for years revealed themselves again.

His youngest grandchild, who was playing with some painted wooden blocks, jumped up to greet him. "Papa Fin! You're awake! Look, I built a tower." The boy said proudly.

"Martha come have a look, it seems we may have an architect in the family," He exclaimed, heart swelling at the beaming child.

Martha entered the living room from the kitchen.

"Thats very nice Johnny, but I don't think I know of any architects who don't eat their dinner." She said, drying off her hands with a cloth.

Johnny ran into the dining room, climbing into his chair and kicking his feet excitedly.

Martha shook her head with a smile, then looked at Finnegan who had spaced out.

"Are you alright, dear?"

Finnegan stood up and crossed the room to wrap his arms around her.

"Yes, love. I'm fine, it was just a dream." He kissed her head.

After dinner, while Johnny slept, Martha and Finnegan went for a walk around their property, stopping beside a large tree that had just bloomed.

"I love this tree. It always reminds me of you." She put her hand on the trunk. "Still standing strong even after many storms."

Finnegan placed his hand over hers.

"Then you must be the flowers. Because after all that's happened, it wouldn't be a pretty sight to see without them." He smiled.

"I love you, Finney," She took his hand with both of hers, kissing it gently.

"And I you, Martha."