Today is the day he will die.
He's sure of it, so sure - what else could dream mean? Each detail within it is real, the guns, the shouts, the pain…
—-
That dream – vision, premonition – shows him his death, over and over. The suddenness of it surprises him; he had thought that there would have been warning before it hits him, a slight split-second in which the realization would dawn, but there is no warning until the bullet bites deep into him and he falls.
At least he can reassure himself with the fact his death will be swift.
He begins to dress. Shirt, tie, boots, jacket, cap. Routine. And he wonders if it's supposed to feel any different, your last day on earth. Are your senses heightened, the colors brighter, the air sweeter?
—-
He has considered running before. If he fled he wouldn't have to face the guns. But he knows he cannot, for if he does he will be a traitor and shame would follow both him and his family. Far better for everyone if he ends on the battlefield as a soldier, martyr, hero.
—-
Too soon the trumpets sound. He looks around, surrounded by his comrades in the sun, and for a heartbeat he lets himself think, only for a second, what if he won't die today? What if it was nervousness and nothing more that the dream had stemmed from?
When he sees the guns, though, the fragile hope splinters and the fear and dull acceptance return.
—-
Be brave!
The horses leap into motion, the guns roar and his eyes are fixated straight ahead, staring at the smoking maws of the guns before him. From one of those will come the bullet that kills me. He spurs Joey faster, shouting, as if speed will help him evade the inevitable.
The guns rush closer, closer, closer.
Then the jolt arrives; the pain does not and someone screams. At first he thinks it's him but his mouth isn't open and now Joey's rhythm is broken, Joey is stumbling, falling and the captain is thinking no, no not Joey, no no no
Earth and sky tumble together in a too-bright whirl and then darkness crushes him.
That part, at least, stays true to the dream.
—-
Breathing is pain, moving is agony, waking is surprise. I thought I was to die today. He tries to feel happy – death has been cheated, he is alive! But the pain piercing him does not say to him 'success'.
He forces open his eyes, sees twilight and blood, death in front of him. Dead soldiers, dead horses, all broken. He tries calling for help, somebody save me, I am not yet one of the broken! but all that escapes him is thick bubbling blood and faint soundless whispers. He can see nobody; all is silent. And it is fitting for he is in a graveyard.
Between stabbing breaths memory returns and he remembers falling, falling. But he is not dead, and he is not the one who fell. Desperately he pushes his body from the mud and twists around, his shattered body shrieking. I have to see- Through pain-warped eyes he sees his legs bent at impossible angles and trapped under a horse, his horse, Joey - but wasn't he the one who was to die? He reaches out an arm and finds the horse's body long since cooled.
He sees it, feels it, but cannot understand.
um, this is my first fic ever so if you'd read and review that would be great :)
also i haven't seen the movie yet so any inaccuracy is unintentional ^.^