READ ME FIRST! :) So here I am with yet another new story. This one is short, and dramatic, and frankly quite different than anything I've ever written before. It is based off of one of my favorite books, "The Things They Carried," by Tim O'Brien, and it is not quiet a war story, but it's something like that. You'll have to read to find out. I would like you to know upfront that I have all seven of the chapters already written. They are all short and drabble-esque, and how quickly I post them will depend solely on reviews. I'm completely uncertain about how much readership a story like this will attract, but I would really request that everyone give it a chance. I know it's a "war" story and that might weed some of you out right away, but folks, an 18-year-old girl wrote it. I promise it's not boring, or gory.
Now, in order to make the That 70's Show characters work into the plot, which is about the Vietnam War, I had to tinker around with the setting. This fic takes place in what would have been SEASON 5 of That 70's Show, except it is set around 1972 instead of 1978. The other special detail I would like to draw your attention to is the quotes that will be at the beginning of every chapter. These quotes come from the book, which is fabulous, by the way, and you should read it.
The only other thing I have to say is if you like it, please review it. It really doesn't take much time, and it makes my day and inspires me to post faster, especially in an instance like this, when I've already got the whole thing written. I write for myself, but I post for you guys. Even just a number 1-10 is very encouraging. I appreciate your feedback a lot.
Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the cast, writers, or producers of That 70's Show, nor do I claim to own any characters or ideas from the FOX broadcast. The Things They Carried belongs to the author Tim O'Brien, and I have borrowed only the title and several credited quotes.
"It was very sad, he thought. The things men carried inside. The things men did or felt they had to do." ~Tim O'Brien
It starts out like any normal day.
He's walking up the driveway with Donna, holding her hand like he sometimes does when they're alone. She's wearing her engagement band, and occasionally when he runs his finger over it she'll crinkle her nose and smile at him. He likes sharing this secret with her, so she'll have to take it off when they go to a movie with the gang later this afternoon, but she wore it all morning. That's why he loves these quiet fall Saturdays with her… just her. Secretly, on days like these he likes to pretend that they're already married; that he's her husband. He thinks he's going to like it a whole lot.
They're almost to the Vista Cruiser when his mom opens the sliding door to the kitchen. "Eric," she calls, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron, "Can you get the mail while you're outside?"
Donna eases herself onto the hood of the Cruiser, letting him know in unspoken terms that she'll wait for him, so he retreats to the end of the driveway and tugs open the rusted metal lid, shifting the conglomeration of envelopes into his waiting arms. He sifts through them absentmindedly as he heads back up the driveway. Electric bill, car payment, mortgage slip…
He stops as soon as the words on the bottom envelope register. The easy-going, carefree expression falls off his face as he lets the rest of the mail fall to the ground.
"Eric?" Donna is standing up now. He feels her concerned gaze on him, but he can't bring himself to tear his eyes away from the black print at the center of the envelope he clutches. He stares so hard the letters begin to swim.
"What is that?" Donna is standing right in front of him now. She's stooped down to gather the rest of the mail into her arms, and she slowly straightens, eyeing him wearily. When he doesn't acknowledge her words, she looks ready to grab the envelope out of his hands and read it for herself, so he blows out a deep breath and tucks it in his back pocket.
"It's nothing," he tries, slinging his arm around her shoulders and attempting to veer her back towards his house.
But she shakes her head and stills him by placing her hand against his chest. "Don't do that," she reprimands him gently, her tone reminding him that she knows him better than anyone.
Realizing that he is defeated, he swallows hard and studies the top of his shoes. "It's my draft notice," he finally mumbles, chancing a glance at her face.
She just stares at him for a long moment before blowing out a breath. "Holy shit."
"Yeah," he agrees. Holy shit.
The next chapter is ready and waiting... if you'd like to read it, please review!