The Untold Stories {Wattpad Prize Entry}

The Man You Made Fun of Because of His Ugly Scars? He Fought For Our Country

"Damn! Your face is fucked up!" You taunted as you and your little friends rushed past me. I was at the park with my four year old son, Andrew. I got enough crap about my scars every time I go out in public, I didn't need to make it any worse.

The same night you reminded me about how ugly my face is, I was waiting for my wife Eleanor to to come home. I thought about what you said and the memory of how I got these scars came flooding back to me, even though I had tried to block it out.

We were in a small village in Iraq, detonating some land mines. There were eight in total, and near mid-afternoon, we got them all. I was eating one of those steam in the in bag meals. An Iraqi woman I had acquainted with approached me, hand out stretched, begging for money.

Even though she didn’t understand my language, I still apologized for not having anything to give her. The look of regret and sorrow was international; she frowned and walked away.

She had taken no more than three steps when everything exploded. The force of the explosion threw me back several feet and the wind was knocked out of me when I landed hard on my back. There was a burning pin on my face and it took my brain a while to register that my face was actually burning.

I beat the flames out and tried to make sense of my surroundings. The entire village was up in flames. Those who hadn’t been burned too badly by the fire helped put it out. The effort seemed futile as the bright red and orange flames destroyed everything in their path.

The fire was finally put out; the only things that remained were ash and the charred bones of the dead bodies. We later figured out that there was another bomb that we hadn’t been told about; that we had missed. It was right in front of me, right where the Iraqi woman walked. How could I have missed such a crucial detail? How could I have let this happened when I was sitting right there? The sight of the burned down village hunted me in many of my dreams, but the entire memory hadn’t come to me until now--until you.

You weren’t thinking about how your words would affect me. You didn’t even have the common courtesy to ask me how I got the scars, just decided to insult me and run; like a coward.

You had no respect and just assumed things, running away laughing your ass off as if you knew my story.

You don't.

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***Author's Note*** I Don't know much about the army and such, so I did the best I could to write this story. Sorry If it's short :/