Inachevé

Twenty-one - Two Yellow Eyes

The strong scent of sea air stirred my senses to attention. Glassy eyed and barely conscious, I lifted my head from the cold sand. Looking around, I had an attack of forgetfulness. I didn't know where I was. There were no familiar faces of landmarks that sparked my memory. With aching muscles, I managed to move my hands from my side to beside my chest. I pushed up slightly, making sure to feel if I had been injured. Slowly ascending from the ground, I felt a numbness in my feet. I stopped and let out a gasp. My first fear was that I had lost circulation from the knees down from the cold water.

I reached down, patting the side of my right leg until I touched my bootless foot. My fingers dipped in and out of the spaces between my toes, but still no reaction from my foot. With difficulty and pain in my lower back, I dragged myself onto the shore and brought my foot closer to my body. I rubbed it vigorously. Slowly but surely, my nerves came alive, and the rushing pain of a numbed foot shot up my leg. I winced in pain and bit my lip to keep myself from complaining. As the circulation returned to my leg, I felt around my body, investigating on what I still had on me.

My hands found a Swiss Army blade, an empty canteen bottle, a handgun with an empty cartridge, and a soggy bag of food. My helmet was gone, and the only thing that helped me remember who I was and where I was, were the metal dog tags clanking around my neck. I took hold of the tags and read the embossed words:

MILLS

CHRISTIAN S

594 96 2367

B POS

At the sight of the tags, a memory entered my mind and my hand immediately dropped down beside one of my pant leg pockets. Fumbling against the fabric flap, I at last pinched a waterlogged piece of paper. I pulled it out gingerly, careful not to tear it, and brought it to my face. The writing was still visible, but I wasn't sure if it I was still able to read it. It didn't matter if I could, I had it memorized. Clutching the letter in my hand, I pulled my legs underneath me and stood up. The blood rushed to my head and I stumbled to the ground, almost blacking out again. I remained kneeling until my vision cleared and the heat in my head settled.

I stood up again, and this time I didn't waver.  Before advancing forward, I examined my surroundings and saw nothing but a sandy shore stretching for miles in both directions. I saw various equipment scattered along the bank, and seeing it to be my own belongings, I gathered what seemed usable and portable. While I collected my things, I began reciting the letter, as it brought me comfort in my time of confusion.

 

 

My dearest Christian,

I am writing this letter to you because I know that when you read it, it'll be the closest I can be to you. Though you may be far off, the distance doesn't matter to me because I know my heart is yours. I pray for you every moment of the day and I frequently look out my window, hoping to see you returning.  You mean a great deal to me, and I know by your faith and courage, you will return safely to me.

I await anxiously for our first child, and I have decided that if it is a boy, we'll name it after you father, Tristan.  And if it is to be a girl, after my mother, Estella. I always wonder if it'll look like you. Would it have your soft, thoughtful blue eyes and structured features? Or would it have my silky hair and fair skin? I know it'll be beautiful, and hopefully when you return home, you'll have two people greeting you.

Remember that in your deepest moments, that God and I are thinking about you and we'll not let you down. I have faith that you'll complete what God has given you -- for He would've not put you where you are if He did not believe you could succeed. Have faith, my beloved. I miss you so much my heart will break, but I will let it fall to pieces when you come into my arms.  Do not reply to this letter, instead, when the war is over, just come home. I will always be waiting.