It's A Long Road

Chapter One:

This first chapter is kinda short, buuut if you wuna know more you gota hit VOTE, and wait for  the next chapter. (:

Chapter One:

    It’s hotter than hell out here. Wait! This is hell. You’d think I’d be used to the heat by now, but I’m not.

   I can honestly say I’m sick and tired of Afghan. I’m tired of the heat, the food, and the people. I could go on all day, but I’d rather not.

 “Private Branch!” I turn at the sound of his voice. Sergeant Lowry.  He’s a big guy. Not bad looking. And if I’m saying it, it must be true.

 I straighten up. “Yes Sir!”

 “Stop daydreaming and get back to work!”  Work? What the hell is he talking about? We haven’t done shit in about two weeks!

 “Yes Sir!”

  “Ronnie, you can stop with the ‘Yes Sir’” I relax. He walks away before I can respond. I walk away as well; back to my tent.

   I’m exhaust. There is too much going on. My mind is drowning in its own knowledge. More like fears, my fears. I haven’t thought about my home town; lost memories, since who knows when, but lately I can’t help but think about the past.

  My mother is sick. I got a letter from her, two days ago, telling me so. She said that I should come home, ‘she needed me’. I didn’t believe the letter at first. I didn’t want too. I’ve been away for five years. I haven’t talked to my mother for six. Six years is a long time to not talk to someone, especially the one person who brought you into the world. But how could you blame me. She caused all this. Then again saying that gives her more credit than she deserves.

  My mother always wanted control. She wanted to control me, my choices, and my life. But that will never happen. I will never let my mother take control, because when she takes control it is for the worst.

 The last time she took control of someone’s life it was a disaster. It ended in tragedy. She destroyed our family. After that I left, and haven’t looked back. But now I have too!

  My mother is old fashioned, and that’s the main reason we don’t agree with one another. I suppose there was a time that I liked the company of my mother, but hell that could have just been the day I was born. I was ten when I realized my mother didn’t particularly like me. Of course she loved me and I loved her, but sometimes love isn’t enough.

  I’m honestly dreading going home. I have exactly three days before I leave this place; this place that has become my new home. Yeah, I know I said I hate Afghan, but what can I say it grows on you after so many years. Plus, it’s all I’ve got these days.

  I need to get my head straight before I step back onto American soil. I’ve been fighting for my country for a while, but if you showed it to me I wouldn’t know it. It’s quite sad. Depressing actually.

  I walk into view of my tent. Before I go in I look around; my usual routine. Some of the men are partying, others already settled in for the night, the sun sinking into the horizon. It’s a beautiful night. I step inside, fall face down onto my cot, and shut my eyes. Hopefully this is all just a dream, and everything will be better when I hear that trumpet sounding. Hopefully. But even I know that’s wishful thinking.