I was dejected, my life was playing right before me like a distorted film, coruscating through my mind relentlessly, in desultory. Cocooned at my usual spot, right at the corner of the mess in the war refugee camp, where cries and abject submission filled the air, exercising our hopes beyond our boundaries.

Tears, blood, flowing down my cheeks; queasiness, vertigo, spiraling my reality into a sporadic concoction of nothingness and dejection. I had not eaten, urinated, drank for three straight days without me realising it as I was paralysed utterly by fear, shock, trauma. Spun by the cruel reality, the wheel of life dealt a collateral damage to my mind at whole, I was gone after I could not accept what had happened at the battle field, where needless bloodshed happened.

Three towering figures hovered above me, I maintained my posture, disregarding the surroundings, consumed by my own dispute to the harsh reality. A short, insignificant jab was inserted to my arm.

There was nothing at first. “this must work, sodium pentothal.”

A deluge of image flooded my mind in a blink of an eye. “John, can you hear me?” I listened without reply, “I need you to think about that incident,” he proceeded as if I could hear him, and yes I could hear him crystal clear.

“Focus, recreate that day where you are heading out to fight the war to end all wars,” his voice was solemn and tranquil, my mind obeyed as instructed, “Let’s start from where you are on the helicopter as the support team.” My senses blinked, I was on the helicopter.

The voice dissipated into thin air. I was myself again, I remained silent as I listened to the commander’s orders. My mate, Connor, was sitting next to me, quiet. Is he as scared as I am? I mean we are overwhelmed by the forces greatly at this area, but we were still sent to this suicide mission. The fear not only came from him or me, it was emitted from the squadron in the chopper.

“May no man die.” the commander capped off his final words with his signature punch-line. I saw him wiping his tears away. He was the first to dive out of the chopper into the battlefield, we followed suit. Connor gave a pat on my back, it’s gonna be okay. He signaled me telepathically and took a leap of faith into the suicide mission.

As I was about to jump out of the chopper, a set of images about my friendship, camaraderie, brotherhood that me and Connor shared. I started to quiver violently. “John, do not be afraid.” it was the enigmatic voice again. That phrase instantly calmed my mind, I was ready to jump.

Our squadron landed safely into the target’s base, hopefully undetected. The enemies knew our presence, they simply played possum, leading us deftly straight into a trap that they had set up.

We followed our commander’s lead, Connor was in front of me, cruising through the thick forest that led us to the enemies’ base.

Ting. A nuanced silence emanated from the sudden terror. My leg tripped on a fine thread. A trap. “Get down!” Connor pushed me away without hesitation. The impact from the explosion was tremendous, sirens went blaring everywhere. My senses was impeded as I was thrown back by Connor and the explosion.

My consciousness got back together, I saw a rounded object by my feet. It was warm, caked in crimson redness, furbished with apprehension before death. Connor… 

Snap. Something went off in my brain. I started plunging straight into a tenebrous helix of blackness, total abominable despondency. “You need to get up and survive this war,” I was losing myself. The voice was dimming out.

“Get up!” the voice shouted, pulling me by my gossamer cord of life, “That is not what Connor wants!” the voice blared.

Catching myself from falling into the infinite abyss of abysmal nothingness and of no return, It’s gonna be okay. The voice morphed into the telepathic Connor’s voice. My mind went from berserk to acceptance.

The three figures towered over me flashed into my sight before I blacked out. “He’s saved.” the voice blurted out in satisfaction.

Inscrutable

Craving for more? Down below:
It Takes A Lot to Jump
Breaking Free
Overlapped
Vanity
Choose.
NEGATIVITY IS NEVER AN OPTION.
A Letter to 2017 Jess
Untouchable.