This is a drabble I wrote for a character I'm currently roleplaying. Feedback will be greatly appreciated.
Silence all around, as if on this particular night all life had seized to exist. It was a ridiculous notion, that much I knew. But on this night with only the wind rustling through leaves and the distant sound of crickets chirping it certainly seemed that way. Breathes were drawn in slowly, my chest rising and falling as dreams took me far away from reality. Far away from the hardships of my current life. I know what you're probably wondering, who are you and what are you talking off. I'm not even sure I know who I am. Flashes of golden and orange hues, so familiar but terrifying all the same haunted my dreams. I can remember every little sound of that particular day, the smells of burnt wood and flesh. Their screams still ring through my ears every single day.
I see myself standing, my eight year old self. The wood under my feet feels familiar and I can smell crispy cooked chicken being baked in the kitchen. We're gonna have a feast tonight, for the war is coming to an end. I still can't believe that this nightmare shall cease to exist. It's all I've ever known. My mother calls out from the kitchen to wash ourselves before dinner and I can hear the patter of feet coming from above. My siblings have undoubtedly made a mad dash for the wash room upstairs. I chuckle and shake my head, some things will never change. I walk towards the back of the house. Where the smell of wood, herbs and coal greet me as I walk into the small room. There's a small sink in the back, I usually wash up here. It's much quieter for my sensitive ears. Sometimes I think I'm different, I can do so many things my siblings can't. And I often wonder if I'm where I should be. Are they my real siblings and are mom and dad my real parents? But then I always wave it away. The importance of it doesn't matter. For why would I want anyone else as my family? I have all I need right here.
Then I hear it, the sounds of propellers followed by the blaring sounds of the siren. They're coming. My heart practically hammers in my chest as I run for the wood pile in the back of the room. I manage to cram myself in a small space in the far corner. The earth rumbles and vibrates beneath me as the sounds of explosions deafen my ears. Then there's nothing but heat and flashes of an orange gold. Fire.
The intense heat of it is scorching my skin, filling me with an intense pain. As if a million needles are stabbing me all at once. I try to break free but I can't. I claw at the wood holding me down even though I can tell it's useless. Blood runs down my fingers, that's how far my body wants to go to just survive. I can feel darkness beckoning me, my world is starting to go dark. The black smoke feels heavy on my breath and all I can smell is burnt wood and flesh. If I had the strength to throw up I would have done so. I want to escape, I want to get out but everything is weighing me down and darkness is beckoning me.
A thundering roar sounds through the night as a young man shoots up from his sleep. The same nightmare that has plagued him for years has paid him a visit once more and the man's roar slowly turns to sobbing. He remembers the pain, the loss, the darkness. He remembers waking up in a hospital bed and hearing the truth.
He was the sole survivor, his family killed in a bombardment by the Germans. There was nothing he could do at the time, he was just an eight year old boy. But that doesn't mean he doesn't blame himself. If only he'd been stronger, better. He could've saved his family.
He looks out the window and sees his own reflection. His tear filled hazel eyes are without the light of life, they have been for so long. His long dark blonde hair is matted and sticks to his sweat soaked forehead. He looks like a man without a reason to live and that's exactly how he feels. Cole Flynn has been dead for years, sixty seven to be exact. His body lives on but Cole knows his soul died the day his family died. And he'll never regain it, for it is simply impossible.