Welcome to the October Frights Blog Hop!
For today’s post you get a little spectral sci-fi. Where no one can hear you scream…
I stood outside my favourite rundown bar. It being my favourite mainly because it was the only bar on this backwater planet. Above me, filling the tangerine sky, the screaming warships raced off to the front lines. Fighters, heavy cruisers, troop ships, they all headed to the battlefront. Not a good place to be. I should know, I just returned from there. I still had the grime, plasma burns and blood on my battle suit to prove that fact.
I remember being there. I had memories of being in battle, exchanging plasma bursts with the enemy, advancing across the dust fields. I remember all of that. I don’t remember how I got back here.
Shock, maybe? I’ve heard of battle fatigue syndrome. Could it be that what’s messing with my head?
It didn’t matter, though. I couldn’t worry about it yet. The only thing that mattered was a cold beer, with a hard liquor chaser. Maybe New Alder Vodka. It had a fresh minty flavour, but with a kick that could knock you off your bar stool.
Wait. How did I get inside? Oh well. Bring me the beer and the vodka.
I sidled up to the bar and tried to get the bartender’s attention. He ignored me. Too busy watching the vid screen with some punk kid who didn’t have the guts to sign up to fight. Nobody respected soldiers anymore. I looked up at the program they were watching. It was the news. I noticed the headline flashing across the screen: All Presumed Dead at the Battle of the Incarnadine Dunes.
Hey. That’s where I was fighting. How can we all be dead when—
That’s when I saw the list of the fallen soldiers scrolling up the screen. That’s when I saw my name listed…
I screamed. No one in bar noticed.
Holy shit. It’s true. I was dead.
I was dead.
I guess I’m not getting that beer and vodka chaser.
© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved