The Dream of Reality

The beginning, or the end?

He cried out in agony as the bullet shattered his chestplate and punctured his chest, clipping the bottom of his lung, and staying lodged in his back. As he fell to the ground and withered in pain he saw a shadowy figure wearing a camouflaged uniform pick him up and start to carry him with an arm over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to protest, they had to leave him. They would never make it to the extraction point with out him, But before he could make a sound a bullet tore through the shadowy figure and they both collapsed. This wasnt supposed to happen. It was just a routine patrol, not even close to combat. The nearest combat zone was miles away! But they had come under fire and called for reinforcements, but they got an extraction point instead. A cry of pain ripped into the frigid night air and then two loud pops later it was silenced as both men lay on the ground with uniforms covered in blood, mud, and sweat, as a crimson red liquid flowed out from their prone forms and stained the ground. The man knew no more.

He awoke with a gasp, He was back home. His girlfriend laid beside him in a peaceful slumber until a knock at the door to the apartment awoke her. He tried to open his mouth but the words wouldn't form. So he followed her to the door and watched as she opened it, only to gasp as two men in military uniforms with solemn expressions slowly handed her a letter and began to speak of her boyfriend's death. But every time they said his name it was blurred out from his hearing, what was his name? He didn't know... he couldn't remember it. But how could he be dead? He was standing right beside his girlfriend. Can't they see him? He tried to put his hand on her shoulder to tell her he was okay, and that he was still alive, only for his hand to phase through her as she fell to the floor in tears, a face of anguish in place of her usual carefree and loving face. He stopped in surprise and stared at his now fume like hand as wisps of color were whisked around until they slowly reformed his hand. He looked back up and saw that the men were now gone, as his girlfriend sat in front of the closed door, holding the letter the men had given her, sobbing. 

He went to reach out again but he stopped before he could touch her and slowly pulled his arm back to his side as he came to a realisation. He was dead, it wasn't a dream, and he was somehow haunting his girlfriend or....ex-girlfriend, he was dead after all. And at that moment his whole world seemed to collapse around him as he stood there in shock, coming to grip with this realisation as the love of his life sat in the floor mourning his death. A few hours later he heard the sound of a cabinet creaking open, as his love pulled out multiple bottles of liquor and started rapidly drinking straight from the bottle. As she finished the third bottle of liquor she puked on the floor as he watched with a pained face, knowing that he could do nothing to help her with the pain. 

When she started breaking down in her drunken stupor he was sure he was in hell. First she started sobbing, then she took to pulling her hair out as she uttered gibberish to herself, as she paced the floor stumbling around helplessly, until she fell down and passed out, the alcohol finally winning the battle in her body. He watched her sleep with a pained expression on his face until she finally awoke and stumbled into the bathroom. She started the tub, filling it with warm water until it was full, and she slowly stripped and sunk into the clear steaming water. He left the room as to give her some privacy. Until she walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and she slowly dressed herself in a black dress, One they had bought for this occasion. When he left they both knew there was a chance he wouldn't return, and they had prepared for it just in case. But she wasn't walking toward the door, no, she was walking to the fire escape with each step his heart sunk lower and lower as he followed her helplessly, hoping that he was wrong about what she was doing. 

She slowly climbed the ladders and stairs of the fire escape until she was on the roof of the apartment building. He held a non-existent breath as she walked forward and stepped up on the ledge. She stood there with the wind gently blowing what was left of her dark black hair around. He let out a sigh of relief as she sat down on the edge. Silent tears streamed down her face as she stared at the sky pointlessly. Suddenly he heard a whisper of 'goodbye' and he looked up in sheer horror as she gently pushed off the roof and disappeared.he ran to the side of the roof and peered down as a crowd grew around his loves' broken body as a pool of blood slowly seeped from her and sirens sounded in the distance.

Private Dezi West awoke with a cry of "FUCK", as he was covered in cold sweat. Immediately his sergeant barked out his orders "Get ready west, you woke up just in time.", Dezi looked at him in a sleep and terror induced confusion. The sergeant sighed, "We have a patrol in five minutes west, Now move your ass soldier!" the sergeant finished with a dangerous edge to his voice that left no room for argument. Dezi sighed and muttered a 'yes sarge' as he started pulling his uniform on over his head. Another patrol, he scoffed and thought 'as if we'll find anything, the closest CZ is miles away.' But still he couldn't shake the feeling of dread in his stomach, he blamed it on the dream that was quickly fading from memory. If only he knew the things that were about to happen. And thus, the warning went unheard. 

(A/N: So, please review, this is my first public work and I just typed it on a whim so any advice/suggestions are welcome. And this isn't my usual style of writing but I wanted to try something new and I thought it went well with this setting. so yea, peace.)