A Sense of Smell

by TakenHawkeye

Slightly more than 100 words drabble. Sometimes, in war, even the most basic things can be your downfall. Will review all who review me.

It was the stench of war that got to him. Try as he might, he could not rid himself of the horrible odor. Every breath would fill his nostrils with the smell, and he could feel it on his skin, beneath his skin, deep inside him. The stench of war was everywhere, choking him, and he could not fight it.

He scrubbed every moment he had the chance, rubbing his hands and arms until they were red and raw. He took more showers than the nurses combined, hot water or cold, scouring his skin until it burned to the touch. And still the smell of war would not leave him.

The smell of bandages and morphine, penicillin and bed pans, blood and gunpowder, smoke from the minefields and gin from the still. Each waking moment he'd scrub, learning to breathe through his mouth.

He yearned for the days when all he could smell were the fresh flowers in the yard and the wild berries in the woods. When all he could smell was home.