The Ringing

He blinks to focus, things are blurry

He can’t make out where he is

Sound is gone

The air is heavy and cloudy

His lungs struggle to catch a breathe

His eyes struggle to focus

Fog around him

He can’t make out what it is

His hands in front of his face

A psychedelic trip

He can’t feel his hands

He can hear his heart and nothing else

He can taste the air now.

Is he tripping?

What did he take?

This is almost numbing, he remembers nothing and has no worries.

A piercing ringing shoots into his head

Only in his left ear, the right still deaf

He can feel again, his body is aching

His vision clears

Dirty on his hands

A dusty fog of rocks and debris

He tastes the dirt

He can hear noises

The two hands coming crashing on his shoulders, and SNAP!

He turns around

“Are you okay?”

He remembers now

He starts checking himself

He gets up with the strangers help

Grabs his gear and they both sprint off

They find the nearest bunker for shelter

He’s in Iraq

The just got mortared

He got his ass laid out by the blast

The ringing still there but not as bad

The alarms are blaring, warning of the attack

He’s alive, not wounded

Just tossed around and bruised

Ego a bit hurt but living is more important

The stranger is an officer checking him out making sure he is good to go

He gives the thumbs up

Pulls out a pack of cigarettes and offers one the to officer

The officer passes on the offer, but signals him to go ahead

He lights up and waits for the all clear

Just another day

132 days and a wake up

Day#9 SJD

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