Victory

A flash fiction about a soldier who has just finished the war. I hope you like it ^_^

                A day full of blood and contempt. A day I could no longer bear to suffer anymore. A day of war.

                I had retired to the sleeping quarters, nursing the injuries on my arms and legs. The surviving soldiers clapped me on the back and gave me toothy grins, some grins without any teeth at all. The war had been won and victory was just beginning to settle in.

                Many of them laughed and triumphed, celebrating in the remaining evening. But however much they prodded me to join them, I declined. My mind was in confusion, refusing to acknowledge the joy that everyone seemed to be reveling in.

                “How are you?” The words almost seemed to be a joke. I looked up at my captain and sighed, burying my head into my hands. “Not too shabby, I see.”

                It was a joke, placed in the most incorrect manner than any other. I could only imagine how I looked, sitting there, dirty and covered with grime, attempting a pathetic smile. The captain never did have a capacity for a sensitive way of thinking.

                “After so many years,” I murmured, staring ahead into nothing.

                “Just the shock, dear boy, you’ll get over it and be as happy as you’ll ever be.”

                I sincerely doubted his statement but nodded anyways. There was no point starting an argument with the captain. After having a half hearted conversation with him, I took off to the outskirts of the camp, lingering beyond the light of the large bonfire set up in celebration. A few soldiers noted me, congratulating me. What for, I had no clue. Maybe for the achievement of living through the worst moments of my life.

                My feet led me where they decided. I simply allowed the rest of my body to continue despite its sluggishness. Despair clung to me and death was always on my mind. The image of a friend, one I would never see again, even with the photographs that I kept in my breast pocket.

                Eventually I came across the holding area for the captives. There were many, even women and children that were captured in one of the villages. Fright crossed their faces the moment I stepped into view. A type of look that mixed fear and revulsion and, most of all, indescribable hate.

                I wanted to walk away from them, run until my legs were weary. But I couldn’t. Their stares pulled me further in until I couldn’t breathe, my hands clutching my throat in magnified terror as I stared back. How I despised myself.

                Crying came from all corners of the holding area where the women were kept and I wondered why my mind directed me to an even more depressing place. But as I saw the ravaged lives set before me grow even more in number, I couldn’t help but feel only sadness and a deep sense of acceptance. Sadness, both for them and for me.

                A baby wailed, high and shallow in the vicinity; the harsh jubilant voices in the distance. I sat against a wall and cried bitterly until a guard came. There was no victory in this. 

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! If you would, please rate and review it and be absolutely brutal in your critique. Thanks a bunch!