GerIta--Let us~

Part 11- Nightmares (Ludwig's Dream)

Grey smoke filled the skies, bringing nothing but death and despair along with it. Bombs fell nearby causing the ground to shake, and fighter jets soon following. The earth below had been blown away just meters from where I was standing. Guns blew wildly as screams of men, young and old, were reverberating throughout the perimeter. Calls, cries, pleads of help were barely audible, yet shattering the airwaves. I looked down at my hands, they were covered in blood, and dirt. They were also small. I must be twelve, or so. I fell down to my knees as I got the sudden realization of what was going on. The War. The thing that was separating me from my friends, my family. I coughed as gunpowder and smoke filled my throat. I found myself in a tent surrounded my a few males my age. I could barely remember them, but I recognized them. One young man was lying on the dirt, obviously ill. His hair was slightly matted, and his eyes were grey and clouded. He must have been unable to speak, because when any question was asked, the reply was either a hoarse mumble or nothing at all.

I sat beside him and a few others, waiting to see if anything would happen. After a few moments, he shook silently, and went into a still sleep. Not death, just a sleep that was equally cruel. For some reason, I felt calm. Like, I had nothing to worry about. I climbed out of the tent, and that's when the fear came. Men dressed in military outfits littered the area, all carrying guns. One man approached me, wearing a uniform slightly different from the others. He wasn't carrying a gun along with him, either. Once he approached me, a small smile lit his face. I got a closer look at him, now too. Silver hair, pale skin, and pinkish-red eyes. My Brother. He looked down at me, and his small yet cheerful smile faded. "I'm sorry, mein bruder." he said. " I know how hard it is for you to be here." Before I could speak he stood up straight, and walked off. His boots shuffled lightly against the dirt and gravel. I soon felt dizzy and tried to stand up. No luck. The world began twisting and spinning, the ground shaking slightly. My stomach lurched and I dry-heaved. Before the last wave of spinning, my vision flashed white , taking me to another memory.

I looked around. I was in a small house, in a kitchen. The floor was a bit dusty, and the stove hadn't been used in what seemed like days. I heard the patter of small feet up above me. Not rats, much too heavy, just quieted steps. I found a staircase, that was probably metal, twirling steeply up into the ceiling. I heard more footsteps in a room, and then a loud cough. The upstairs condition of this home was good; better than the downstairs I had seen. A light was shining under one of the doors in the hall, making a sliver of brightness on the carpet. I creaked open the door, and found the creepiest thing I've seen all day. A table, with a white silk tablecloth was in the middle of the room. It was a shrine. A shrine to /me/. It had pictures of me all over it, from normal to mildly awkward. It had candles lit all over it, and a small box in the front. The box was wooden, and it had something engraved in it. It read :

In Memory of Ludwig Beilschmidt

May He Rest In Peace.

My mouth went agape at the sight. It was a box full of ashes, even worse, mine. I felt the urge to open it, but held it back. I did, though, take up the chance to explore the room. I found some pictures under the bed of the empty room. They had me in all of them, and they also had Feliciano. I heard something hit the closet door, and I proceeded to the area. I touched my palm on the doorknob, and it was cold. Ice cold. I opened the door, and a creak came spitting out of the hinges. The sight made my mind stop, my breath hitch in my throat. There, on a crude rope, hung Feliciano. His eyes open, his face so unsettling I vomited onto my hands. His eyebrows twisted in an unsettling manner, and his mouth hung open so far it looked like it would fall off. I looked at him, without any words. I felt my face grow hot, and my throat choke. I sniffed in, feeling no air come in my now stuffed nose. I felt heat go down my pale face. I was actually crying. For the first time in forever I was /crying/. I tried to hold back, but I just let tears flow. They burned as I grabbed Feliciano's body. I hoped I wasn't too late. I had just heard his footsteps there, right? I coughed again in the midst of tears. I ripped him away from the rope, and shoved him onto the bed. I hoped he was just unconscious.

I jerked myself over him, clearing my vision. I pumped his chest. He was terribly thin, and fragile. Nonetheless, I pushed as hard as I could, which was weak. I was so broken, my hands shook violently as I did my best. I opened his mouth and pressed mine against it. No passion even passed, just desperation. I plugged his nose, I did the best CPR I knew. Nothing. Just silence.

((OKAY I AM JUST CRYING READING THIS. I have another question for my broskis! What should happen next?????????? Comments are appreciated!!!!! I also want to mention some very nice people. They are: Inebriantdream and FelicianoVargas!!!! Check 'em out!))