You close your eyes.
They snap open.
You're standing in the wake of a battlefield.
Holes blown into the ground by fire.
Corpses surrounding you, feeling like ghosts.
You look down to your hands.
You can't see one of them.
It's gone.
You hear soft footsteps behind you.
A gentle voice tells you,
"It's over now. We'll be okay."
A hand rests on your shoulder.
You close your eyes.
They snap open.
You're in your bedroom.
YOU ARE READING
Poems & Short Stories
NouvellesA collections of poems, short stories, and whatever else may fall under those grounds.
