Zack Diesu

Bound

I’m a soldier. Sitting in the warm dirt of a newly formed crater. The world and its mistakes vibrate through me, grabbing onto my heart and holding it like a father saying goodbye to his child. I feel the infinitesimal weight of sweat rolling over my numb lips. My body shakes like the quaking earth beneath me, trembling under the weight of blood and metal. Bullets cut the air, reducing all sound to a deafening silence. My eyes scan the dirt and barbed wire. My hands grip my rifle, the tendons pulling on my bones and ripping through my skin. The agonizing scream of distant artillery rumbles from deep within the earth. With shaky hands, I remove a scrap of paper from my pocket. Artillery shells screech above me, reaching their peak in the night sky. I write a letter.