Unrequited...

I never knew it was possible to feel so strongly about another person. I didn’t think I would ever die for someone or sacrifice my own happiness for theirs. Part of me hates the dependence I have for him. The fact I miss him the moment he walks out of the room. I dream about him, think about him. My body and mind is his for the taking for they no longer belong to me anyway. From the first moment I realized my love, I was his. The details of his person are etched into my brain; the way he stands, the exact colour of his eyes, his laugh and smile. After all of this, after my heart has crumbled into ash, why does he not see me walk by? He does not notice my smile or the way I shudder when we touch. I love him, yet he only loves himself.

I saw him aim...

One of my drabbles relating to my obsession with the Second World War.

I saw him aim. I saw his finger settle on the trigger. Saw him fire a bullet into my best friends head. Blood and brain matter flew in every direction, splattering in my hair, eyes and my mouth. He went down quicker than gravity could allow, crumpling like a discarded piece of paper. My oldest mate, partner in crime, dead with his skull blown off. I glanced at the shooter and instantly recognized the two lightening bolts emblazoned on his collar. The SS, Hitler's death squad, here to claim its latest innocent victim. Now, he lay pitifully in this muddy French village square, a corpse, a statistic for this unrelenting travesty. At home, he will be glorified, proclaimed a hero for all that's good. To me, he is just Thomas. Mischievous, obsessed with the ladies, known to get in a scrap or two. Faithful, generous, brave a trustworthy. The real characteristics of a soldier and that is what Thomas was: a soldier in life and forever in death.