- Joined
- Jun 17, 2010
- Messages
- 2,275
This will be my Final Draft, which i may make small edits to.
Black liquid was dripping all over his face, he struggled as hard as he could, putting all his force into the task. It wouldn’t seem to budge, and then finally it moved. “Try it now,” the man said, rubbing his eyes. The engine huffed and groaned, but to no avail. “Damn I thought that would work,” said the man, oil all over his arm and face. “It’s okay Johnny, you can’t fix them all,” said an older man at the wheel of the 1990 Ford Ranger. “Yeah I know, but this one is important to me.” Johnny said as he put his hand through his hair in frustration. The old man put a hand on his shoulder in sympathy, “I’ll have George look at it, if he can’t fix it no one can.” He smiled his kindly smile, his wrinkles bunching up along his forehead and eyes. Johnny looked at him and gave a small smile. He was young and full of energy, his chin was sculpted and his jaw was powerful but he had a soft smile that could make any girl swoon. “Thanks Phil, I should get home my Ma is bound to be worried by now.” “Well get off then, tell Jillian I said hi,” Phil said as he smacked Johnny’s back, then he gave him a sad look, “How’s your Pa.” Johnny didn’t turn to look at the old man; he just stared off into the setting sun. It was moments before he realized Phil had asked him a question, “Still the same.” He said, and without another word he went to his car.
There were soldiers everywhere being cut down, left right by the dozens. They had no escape; the line was being driven back. Debris flying everywhere, this enemy was unstoppable, it had no emotion; it had no conscience; it had no soul. The hedge was square and trimmed to his liking, but he stared at it with content, as if it would grow back suddenly and he would have to fight again. He continued down the line to another hedge and then lost himself to the work. The commander was yelling at the unit not to retreat, push; gain ground. Find them in the endless dense jungle. He began to comply with the order, cutting deeper into the forest; deeper into enemy territory. Suddenly a loud voice came from the bush. An angry man, yelling at the soldier, the voice was familiar, it was the enemy. He was back in the mud, holding his gun, but it was not a gun, they were shears. The world flooded back to him and he was in California again, and the voice wasn’t coming from the jungle, but a man on the other side.
“What are you doing to my bush? You ruin it!” the man yelled furiously. The man on the ground started up in confusion. It was the enemy, but he could understand his words. He finally looked to where he was pointing; he had cut right into the bush and made a large wedge in it. Still he stared confused; he only did what he was ordered to. He always did what he was ordered to. “I am a citizen now you cannot treat me like this. You are going to pay for this,” he said then his anger flared up and in that angry state he said something in his native tongue. Suddenly the world went dark again, he had no weapon anymore. No. He is the real weapon. He jumped up and landed a solid punch to the Vietcong’s ribs, he had used his full force to launch himself into the punch so it didn’t surprise him to hear bones crack and crunch under his large pulsating fist. With the wind knocked out of him, he couldn’t react. The soldier took the opening and quickly swung his body backward and with a jerk used his full momentum to ram his elbow right at the open jaw, a snap and he knew he had just broken his jaw. Now he couldn’t call for help. Broken and bloodied, the man stumbled and fell to the ground, still surprised; still trying to find the life giving air that he so longed for.
The light was failing but he could still see it. Johnny knew what it looked like when two people were fighting; this was not it. His father was on top of their neighbor landing punch after punch across the man’s upper body and head. Johnny jumped out of his car after stopping next to the curb and went on a dead run to stop his father. Johnny tackled his father to the ground and held his arms down. “Dad it’s me your son, you are not in Vietnam, dad, the war is over. Dad listen to me!” he said as his dad kept struggling and speaking incomprehensibly. He started to calm down only to phase out of reality, into his eternity of endless horrors.
Johnny’s mother had come outside and had seen the end of the fight, she grabbed her husband’s hands and soothed him until he was back in reality long enough to get inside the house. The ambulance was called and the beaten man was taken to the hospital. “I’m really sorry about what happened I can’t imagine what got into him.” Johnny said. “It’s okay the paramedics said he would be fine just a few stiches and a night at the hospital, but this isn’t the first time something has happened—“ the girl paused, “—I know it’s hard for him but you need to do something about it, he needs constant attention.” Before she could say anything else he started talking again, “No Jenna, I can’t do that to him! I’m sorry about what happened, and I’m glad your dad will be okay, but I am not putting him in a home!” Jenna frowned and then turned serious, “If this happens again I’m pressing charges,” before any words could be traded she pivoted around and started toward her house.
Johnny walked through the door his head low, rubbing his temples. He saw his mother caring for his dad, he wondered if he really should send him to a retirement home, at least there he would get all the attention he needed. Johnny sighed and walked to his mother and kissed her head. He didn’t meet her gaze; he knew he couldn’t hold back the tears if he looked into her sad eyes. Johnny headed up the stairs to his room, looking at every picture on the wall. He missed those times, when his father and him would go hiking and fishing. Startled by a picture he didn’t recognize he stared. “She must have just put this up,” he said to himself. His eyes were burning holes into the picture. Johnny removed the backing and took the picture out, he folded it and put it in his shirt pocket; his eyes beamed and for the first in weeks, a truly happy smile came over him.
He couldn’t remember the last time he was outside. Time seemed to stand still when he wasn’t in a daze, but it wasn’t long until he would fall back into a stupor. It always started with gunshots. Then he was covered in blood. And the yelling, he could never tell who it was coming from. He always tried to save someone, but he could never remember who it was, or why it was so important to save him. His memories collided, flooding his brain, taking over every nook until he didn’t have a single coherent thought; only death. When the memories came time was meaningless, he couldn’t comprehend time when there was nothing left in his brain to grasp it.
He broke out of a daze when he heard whispering. He thought he saw himself, but younger. He finally realized it must be his son. They were talking about him, his son was so happy. He came up to him and started shaking his shoulder. “C’mon dad I need to show you something,” Johnny said, his face beaming. Johnny grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him up and led him out of the house. Johnny’s dad put up to resistance, “I did something for you. I hope you like it.” They came out of the front door and a car was sitting there. It looked oddly familiar to Johnny’s dad but he couldn’t remember. He could never remember. “Here,” Johnny pulled something out of his shirt pocket; it was a piece of paper. No, it was a picture. He unfolded it and then he froze. “It took us a week to fix it but it finally works again.” The picture had the same car; Johnny was sitting in the driver’s side, his head barely reaching the wheel, and his dad washing the car.
His dad started crying. Memories started flowing in, memories of his son, of before the war, everything that made him who he was. His whole life was coming back to him. He was free from the horrible nightmare. But then the gunshots came, blood was covering his arm. “No—“ he was free, why is it all coming back, he doesn’t want to live that life anymore. Then he realized he was actually hearing gunshots. This was his blood, he didn’t know what was happening but all he could think to do was jump on his son. Johnny was knocked to the ground, bullets flying through the air. His dad shielded him. The picture was on the ground, covered in blood.
Johnny was stunned; he didn’t know what was going on. He couldn’t react he was under his father, he didn’t even remember when his dad got on top of him, he didn’t remember when he got on the ground. The gunshots stopped and he could hear sirens off in the distance. When he woke he was laying on a bed. There was a nurse over him, “My dad. Where is he! Is he okay!” he started yelling, his abdomen hurt. “He took multiple gunshot wounds, and his heart gave out, we had to revive him.” She said as she wrote on her clipboard. “There’s still a chance he could go under but he’s okay for now.” Johnny started to get up, ignoring the nurse’s words to stay in bed. He had a mission and he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him.
His mother was waiting outside his dad’s room. She was sleeping in the chair; she was awake all night. He kissed her head and walked through the door. The sunlight was seeping through the blinds, trying to inhabit the room. Johnny sat in a chair and took in the sight. His father was sleeping, thankfully. He grabbed his hand and whispered in his ear, “Don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me.” A tear rolled down his face and dropped on his father’s hand. He sat there for what seemed hours, with no change in his father’s state. There was a knock on the door and a police officer entered. “Could we speak with you outside, sir?” he asked in a hushed voice. Johnny nodded and left the room. “We detained the gunman and brought him in, from what we’ve gathered he was your neighbor, pretty badly beaten himself, his arm was in a sling and with one arm he didn’t shoot very accurately.” Johnny was shocked; this was revenge for what had happened the week before. “His trial is in three days, you’ll need to be a witness.” Johnny couldn’t speak right then. He needed to get some air he nodded and then started outside.
Johnny stood outside trying to get his composure back. His wound had stopped bleeding, but he still felt a sharp pain in his gut. The doors slid open and a nurse came out next to him. “Your dad is awake, he wants to talk to you.” she said as she slipped back into the hospital. He came to his dad’s door and walked in. His dad was laying there; he still seemed to be unconscious. “Johnny, come here I need to talk to you.” Johnny sat down and crept closer to his dad. “Thank you Johnny. Thank you for saving me from that nightmare.” He said coughing in between breaths. “What do you mean?” Johnny said, puzzled. “You brought me back son, you brought back my life.” His hands were shaking while he lifted something; it was the picture. “If I don’t make it I want you to know—“ he started coughing again, “—I love you, and I want you to live your life from now on, don’t worry about me anymore.” He laid his head back down and closed his eyes. The machine started to beep continuously; suddenly nurses and a doctor ran in, pulling Johnny out of the room and closing the blinds. He didn’t know how to respond, he just stood there.
Johnny stood over the grave. He stared at it, thinking maybe he would jump out of the coffin. They started to fill in the grave after the coffin was lowered. Jenna walked over and put an arm around Johnny, “Thanks for coming, I know you had your differences but he was a good man.” Johnny looked into her eyes, “I’m sorry about what happened to your dad, Jenna.” She sighed and glanced down at the grave. “I love him but he made bad decisions, I just can’t believe he killed himself.” Johnny’s dad came up behind the two, his arm in a sling, and a little wobbly on his feet. “I feel bad for the guy; this was kind of my fault. Let’s go Johnny, your mother hates funerals.” Johnny smiled at his dad, standing tall sharing the same features as his son, “Okay lets go.” They headed toward the old 1990 Ford Ranger that brought his dad back from the dead.
There were soldiers everywhere being cut down, left right by the dozens. They had no escape; the line was being driven back. Debris flying everywhere, this enemy was unstoppable, it had no emotion; it had no conscience; it had no soul. The hedge was square and trimmed to his liking, but he stared at it with content, as if it would grow back suddenly and he would have to fight again. He continued down the line to another hedge and then lost himself to the work. The commander was yelling at the unit not to retreat, push; gain ground. Find them in the endless dense jungle. He began to comply with the order, cutting deeper into the forest; deeper into enemy territory. Suddenly a loud voice came from the bush. An angry man, yelling at the soldier, the voice was familiar, it was the enemy. He was back in the mud, holding his gun, but it was not a gun, they were shears. The world flooded back to him and he was in California again, and the voice wasn’t coming from the jungle, but a man on the other side.
“What are you doing to my bush? You ruin it!” the man yelled furiously. The man on the ground started up in confusion. It was the enemy, but he could understand his words. He finally looked to where he was pointing; he had cut right into the bush and made a large wedge in it. Still he stared confused; he only did what he was ordered to. He always did what he was ordered to. “I am a citizen now you cannot treat me like this. You are going to pay for this,” he said then his anger flared up and in that angry state he said something in his native tongue. Suddenly the world went dark again, he had no weapon anymore. No. He is the real weapon. He jumped up and landed a solid punch to the Vietcong’s ribs, he had used his full force to launch himself into the punch so it didn’t surprise him to hear bones crack and crunch under his large pulsating fist. With the wind knocked out of him, he couldn’t react. The soldier took the opening and quickly swung his body backward and with a jerk used his full momentum to ram his elbow right at the open jaw, a snap and he knew he had just broken his jaw. Now he couldn’t call for help. Broken and bloodied, the man stumbled and fell to the ground, still surprised; still trying to find the life giving air that he so longed for.
The light was failing but he could still see it. Johnny knew what it looked like when two people were fighting; this was not it. His father was on top of their neighbor landing punch after punch across the man’s upper body and head. Johnny jumped out of his car after stopping next to the curb and went on a dead run to stop his father. Johnny tackled his father to the ground and held his arms down. “Dad it’s me your son, you are not in Vietnam, dad, the war is over. Dad listen to me!” he said as his dad kept struggling and speaking incomprehensibly. He started to calm down only to phase out of reality, into his eternity of endless horrors.
Johnny’s mother had come outside and had seen the end of the fight, she grabbed her husband’s hands and soothed him until he was back in reality long enough to get inside the house. The ambulance was called and the beaten man was taken to the hospital. “I’m really sorry about what happened I can’t imagine what got into him.” Johnny said. “It’s okay the paramedics said he would be fine just a few stiches and a night at the hospital, but this isn’t the first time something has happened—“ the girl paused, “—I know it’s hard for him but you need to do something about it, he needs constant attention.” Before she could say anything else he started talking again, “No Jenna, I can’t do that to him! I’m sorry about what happened, and I’m glad your dad will be okay, but I am not putting him in a home!” Jenna frowned and then turned serious, “If this happens again I’m pressing charges,” before any words could be traded she pivoted around and started toward her house.
Johnny walked through the door his head low, rubbing his temples. He saw his mother caring for his dad, he wondered if he really should send him to a retirement home, at least there he would get all the attention he needed. Johnny sighed and walked to his mother and kissed her head. He didn’t meet her gaze; he knew he couldn’t hold back the tears if he looked into her sad eyes. Johnny headed up the stairs to his room, looking at every picture on the wall. He missed those times, when his father and him would go hiking and fishing. Startled by a picture he didn’t recognize he stared. “She must have just put this up,” he said to himself. His eyes were burning holes into the picture. Johnny removed the backing and took the picture out, he folded it and put it in his shirt pocket; his eyes beamed and for the first in weeks, a truly happy smile came over him.
He couldn’t remember the last time he was outside. Time seemed to stand still when he wasn’t in a daze, but it wasn’t long until he would fall back into a stupor. It always started with gunshots. Then he was covered in blood. And the yelling, he could never tell who it was coming from. He always tried to save someone, but he could never remember who it was, or why it was so important to save him. His memories collided, flooding his brain, taking over every nook until he didn’t have a single coherent thought; only death. When the memories came time was meaningless, he couldn’t comprehend time when there was nothing left in his brain to grasp it.
He broke out of a daze when he heard whispering. He thought he saw himself, but younger. He finally realized it must be his son. They were talking about him, his son was so happy. He came up to him and started shaking his shoulder. “C’mon dad I need to show you something,” Johnny said, his face beaming. Johnny grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him up and led him out of the house. Johnny’s dad put up to resistance, “I did something for you. I hope you like it.” They came out of the front door and a car was sitting there. It looked oddly familiar to Johnny’s dad but he couldn’t remember. He could never remember. “Here,” Johnny pulled something out of his shirt pocket; it was a piece of paper. No, it was a picture. He unfolded it and then he froze. “It took us a week to fix it but it finally works again.” The picture had the same car; Johnny was sitting in the driver’s side, his head barely reaching the wheel, and his dad washing the car.
His dad started crying. Memories started flowing in, memories of his son, of before the war, everything that made him who he was. His whole life was coming back to him. He was free from the horrible nightmare. But then the gunshots came, blood was covering his arm. “No—“ he was free, why is it all coming back, he doesn’t want to live that life anymore. Then he realized he was actually hearing gunshots. This was his blood, he didn’t know what was happening but all he could think to do was jump on his son. Johnny was knocked to the ground, bullets flying through the air. His dad shielded him. The picture was on the ground, covered in blood.
Johnny was stunned; he didn’t know what was going on. He couldn’t react he was under his father, he didn’t even remember when his dad got on top of him, he didn’t remember when he got on the ground. The gunshots stopped and he could hear sirens off in the distance. When he woke he was laying on a bed. There was a nurse over him, “My dad. Where is he! Is he okay!” he started yelling, his abdomen hurt. “He took multiple gunshot wounds, and his heart gave out, we had to revive him.” She said as she wrote on her clipboard. “There’s still a chance he could go under but he’s okay for now.” Johnny started to get up, ignoring the nurse’s words to stay in bed. He had a mission and he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him.
His mother was waiting outside his dad’s room. She was sleeping in the chair; she was awake all night. He kissed her head and walked through the door. The sunlight was seeping through the blinds, trying to inhabit the room. Johnny sat in a chair and took in the sight. His father was sleeping, thankfully. He grabbed his hand and whispered in his ear, “Don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me.” A tear rolled down his face and dropped on his father’s hand. He sat there for what seemed hours, with no change in his father’s state. There was a knock on the door and a police officer entered. “Could we speak with you outside, sir?” he asked in a hushed voice. Johnny nodded and left the room. “We detained the gunman and brought him in, from what we’ve gathered he was your neighbor, pretty badly beaten himself, his arm was in a sling and with one arm he didn’t shoot very accurately.” Johnny was shocked; this was revenge for what had happened the week before. “His trial is in three days, you’ll need to be a witness.” Johnny couldn’t speak right then. He needed to get some air he nodded and then started outside.
Johnny stood outside trying to get his composure back. His wound had stopped bleeding, but he still felt a sharp pain in his gut. The doors slid open and a nurse came out next to him. “Your dad is awake, he wants to talk to you.” she said as she slipped back into the hospital. He came to his dad’s door and walked in. His dad was laying there; he still seemed to be unconscious. “Johnny, come here I need to talk to you.” Johnny sat down and crept closer to his dad. “Thank you Johnny. Thank you for saving me from that nightmare.” He said coughing in between breaths. “What do you mean?” Johnny said, puzzled. “You brought me back son, you brought back my life.” His hands were shaking while he lifted something; it was the picture. “If I don’t make it I want you to know—“ he started coughing again, “—I love you, and I want you to live your life from now on, don’t worry about me anymore.” He laid his head back down and closed his eyes. The machine started to beep continuously; suddenly nurses and a doctor ran in, pulling Johnny out of the room and closing the blinds. He didn’t know how to respond, he just stood there.
Johnny stood over the grave. He stared at it, thinking maybe he would jump out of the coffin. They started to fill in the grave after the coffin was lowered. Jenna walked over and put an arm around Johnny, “Thanks for coming, I know you had your differences but he was a good man.” Johnny looked into her eyes, “I’m sorry about what happened to your dad, Jenna.” She sighed and glanced down at the grave. “I love him but he made bad decisions, I just can’t believe he killed himself.” Johnny’s dad came up behind the two, his arm in a sling, and a little wobbly on his feet. “I feel bad for the guy; this was kind of my fault. Let’s go Johnny, your mother hates funerals.” Johnny smiled at his dad, standing tall sharing the same features as his son, “Okay lets go.” They headed toward the old 1990 Ford Ranger that brought his dad back from the dead.
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