Loose Lips Sink Ships

July 14th 1919

silent... still... nothing but saccharine silence. Not a single shell, no threatening fire of machinery, the once exhausted screams now sleep... silent...still.
In amongst this warped utopia, a man. His body strung across a decorative bed, perfectly lined in the centre of the room. Surrounded by a menagerie of quintessential vanities and tables. His face was turned to one side and the remainder of his body facing down toward the earth. His crisply curled golden locks limply lay across his youthful fatigued face. The desirable silence was promptly destroyed by the entrance of hasty fellow...

"Up, up, time to get up mate!" he exclaimed in his thick Irish accent.

"The war might be over, but d'arnt mean we die with it."

It was clear by his choice of wording the fellow was of little intellect and most likely a working-class family. His scintillating ginger hair matched that of his fierce attitude. He began quickly to pick up clothes that had been flung across the ornate carpet and drew back the curtains, letting in a vicious array of sunbeams.

"You know boy'o, I think we two are rather lucky! You see we got a second chance aye. What'd you say, mate?"

It was stale and silent once more.

" That's what I thought." The fiery-haired chap chuckled to himself.

The man on the bed let out a prolonged groan and signalled the other to leave.

"Look, mate..." the second man rambled once more.

"God strike me down for trying, but I don't believe she would have wanted you to idle away in your pit for the next half a century."

He hurries toward the bed forcing the lying figure to sit. "C' mon Wyatt, how much did you drink this time?"...

***
Wyatt Henry Walter James, as prudish as a name could possibly get. A lifetime of luxurious feasts and fine party's, wines too rich for the pallets of you or I. His wealth complimented his unblemished complexion, the innocence of a newborn but the experience of a wise man betwixed his icy blue eyes. This was the figure that sat hunched and dilapidated at the end of the bed.

" What time is it?" He grumbled softly.

"Just gone 6" The other replied.

"6!" Wyatt shouted in utter surprise.

"Christ, why are you waking me at six Leighton, mother nature has barely arisen her bed herself."

"Pm," Leighton explained.

"Oh." Wyatt pondered a moment.

"Well, Mrs Mcgeery has already made you some grub, if you hurry she might still let you eat" Leighton continued to tidy the room, though his efforts seemed to make no improvement since the pungent stench of pure sweat and dirt was unbeatable.

"Mrs Mcgeery will likely have me served as tomorrow's dinner if I don't go now." Wyatt chuckled to himself.

"Ah, suppose your right." They continued to laugh.

Laughter seemed a noise to soon forgotten to fill this room, its echo made it apparent it was not present often or for long.
The war did that you see, stole the laughter from every lip and replaced it with empty shrieks. Wyatt reluctantly reached out his arm half-awake, grabbing a black silk bath gown. From its pocket fell a thin silver wedding band, with a heavy pearl weighing it down.
He paused and bent to pick up the ring. Time stopped, the once clicking clocks of his room stood still and he found himself reliving the nightmares, the memories surrounded him, encaging him. An unconscious hell he wished he could forget but once again it haunted him.

The Visions... A chair, A mask, her cry, her scream, her eyes closing...closing...closed.

"Wyatt, Wyatt, mate you're doing again!"

Wyatt's nightmare was hurridly interrupted by Leighton's firm grip.

"oh um... sorry, so sorry" Wyatt wiped a single tear from his eye and recomposed himself.

Leighton attempted to comfort his friend.

"Did you see 'er again son." a reply was not given just a look of despair and defeat.

"Do you think it'll ever leave me alone, the memories I mean". Leighton looked down, trying hard to hide the unwanted answer. Slowly they stood to their feet and headed toward the door, Wyatt placed the ring into an empty vase on his bedside table and followed Leighton out of the room.