Soldier On

I stumble across the ravaged land in a zombie-like trance. A war zone disguised as a home. You can still make out the landmarks: an overturned laundry basket, it’s contents strewn across the floor; the remains of a  breakfast destroyed by ravenous troops spilt over the table; toys scattered throughout, deathtraps for the unknowing.

“Ugh,” I moan, narrowly avoiding more boobie-traps. Tinsel. Laid delicately across the dining room floor, waiting for some fool to fall prey.
I clutch my coffee cup.
I must survive.

Battle cries are heard in the distance as I watch him back down the driveway. A single tear rolls down my cheek.
I can’t believe he left me.
“‘Til the end,” he’d said. Surely an honourable man would have taken me with him, not left me for dead in the trenches.

Perhaps if I quietly snuck out now I could seek refuge at my friends house around the corner.
“And leave the babies to fend for themselves?”
Oh no. These aren’t babies. These are monsters.

A bomb goes off. Screams sound. I brace myself for the erupting chaos.
I must survive.
I am mum.


3 thoughts on “Soldier On

  1. Lindy says:

    Indeed. Soldier on is the only direction! Your honesty is beautiful Jess. Brings back many memories. It is the most challenging thing you will ever do, and the most rewarding – but only if you give yourself credit. You are amazing,


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