Flash Fiction–The Wounds of a Soldier

Wounds of a Soldier

He was trained to stare into the eyes of others and watch the blood run out.
They devoted his thoughts to the historic idea of killing at any cost.

When he returned home, he was called a hero. They drained him with saluted salutations and hooked him on oxycontin, clorapan and opiates, which eventually led to heroin on the streets.
“We become wounded in the soul,” he said. “Something no drug can fix.”
He told me once that no one should ever come back alive, no one.
That the true mercy of war would be if no one came back alive.

DIANNE LYNN BENANTI
PALM SPRINGS BRANCH, CA