Honorable mention
I’m crouching in a foxhole.
Wake up!
BOOM!
The sound is deafening. It’s so vivid.
I should be used to it by now. It happens every time I close my eyes.
WAKE UP!
“ALAN!” I hear myself shouting, looking frantically for the young corporal. He was beside me a moment ago. I see him now—or whatever’s left of him—a few feet away. Next to a leg. My leg.
WAKE THE FUCK UP!
I can’t. I’m trapped in this nightmare.
I hear more bombs. The ground shakes with every explosion. I think of my wife back home. My kids.
I need to get out of here.
My commanding officer said to rally north if defences fall. I reach for my compass. Dust is flying everywhere. My eyes burn. I can’t see the letters.
BOOM!
I spit on the face of the compass. I can just barely make out an N. I start moving, looking back at Alan one last time. There’s a trail of blood behind me.
WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP!
I feel weak. Darkness starts to take over.
BOOM!
I startle awake now, like always. I’m shaking. I take deep breaths, relief washing over me. It’s over.
Nurse Linda walks in, as she does every time. I start to tremble.
“Please,” I beg. I can’t go back. She doesn’t understand.
“Shhh…” she says gently, injecting me with more sedatives.
Tears roll down my face as I doze off again.
I’m crouching in a foxhole.
WAKE UP!
© Sandra Zappitelli, 2024
This story was written as part of Writing Battle's microfiction challenge. The prompts were Jailbreak (defined as an attempt to escape confinement), an injured soldier, and a compass.