Riceak

The blistering heat was almost as overwhelming as the stock of the rifle that drove into the base of Sergeant Colins' neck. He crumpled to the desert like a sack of bricks and lay motionless with his hands bound behind his back. He was almost used to the headache now. He wasn't exactly sure how long he had been captured for but in this case hours seemed like days. "Up!" hollered the masked man, "On your knees!" Complying, Colins pressed his face into the sand forcing himself to his knees. The sun was blinding. Certainly wasn't making his headache any better. He squinted and collapsed on himself. The exhaustion was taking its toll. It wasn't

Rain blankets the ground as he stands on the edge of the street. His hooded figure stood motionless just out of the dim light of the street lamp. He stared through the picture window of the house in which he used to live. His eyes were fixed on a woman inside. She was setting a table for the evening meal. He knew this woman from his past. Before the war began he would hold her in his arms and stroke her long brown hair. He would kiss her on the forehead while she slept before he would leave for work. He loved her and remained faithful only to her. Then he was sent away. He might as well have been dead in his grave because that is how he felt