During one of my mission in the Middle East, we were deployed on this town. That town, if you could call it that. Looking at those families, the children looking at us. Scared, at looking at us. We were there to defend them, but they didn't know. It hurts when you don't know their language, their culture, anything about them. Only that we were there to do our job.
Whoever is reading this, this wasn't the recent conflict on the Middle East. It was just normal procedure, a normal mundane day. Until a shot was heard, we took cover. Me and one of my partners went inside one of the houses. A house with a family of four. The parents screams, my partner who spoke a little of their language tried to calm them down. I turn around and I saw their children looking at the TV. Lo and behold, it was my favorite show as a kid. Candle Cove. I was mesmerized.
Nostalgia got the better of me. My partner who heard gunfire, tried to get my attention. I couldn't. I needed to get inside. I was a child again. I went toward the kids, who they were entranced the same as I was. The voices of their parents, the guns and my partner were muted. It was one of my favorite episode. When Janice needed to find the muse of the cove, but Horace Horrible wanted for the Skin Taker. After that, I black out. All I heard was the soothing sounds of children's laughter and those woods.
Only one figure stood there with me. My imaginary friend. I woke up. I was back at the base. My team congratulating me on saving their asses, as they kindly put it. I didn't want to say, I didn't remember, so I accepted it. Then we went out for a drink, but I feel I have talked too much. Post it some other time.
No comments:
Post a Comment