Discharged from Duty

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic
The story starts with a guy recovering from a tour of duty that nearly sent him over the edge. On the streets of Nottingham, Bill tries to make sense of life after military service. Things don't go so well...
For further reading see www.fionalinday.co.uk
Go to the contacts page to request the remainder of the story. More like this coming in an anthology called, "Family Matters" in March 2019, Dahlia Publishing.

Submitted: November 10, 2018

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Submitted: November 10, 2018

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Whenever I question the point of my existence, I guess that I was saved for a purpose. Faith was a regular giver whose glass was half full, as opposed to mine that was half empty. Her loneliness made her pick up on my signs of a recent return from hell. The difference being she approached comfortable old age. Then, that was me overthinking things- as she treated me to “meal deals” I needed her to stick around for the time being. So she was the duchess who got me. She understood that my state was beyond her fathoming, we connected.

It was many nights since desert sand clogged a weapon sufficiently to delay my final exit. My situation was sorted by a fantastic battlefield hero. Mike took a hit for me when my automatic jammed on tour in Iraq, adding to the guilt trip. No wonder I was angry dodging shrapnel trophies, with the war in my head continually raging. But the old dear was losing it too because her default mode was well off track. Today she was late. The Council House clock had struck one. Weirdly, the thought of another slipping up seemed comforting. That’s how messed up I was.

Mysteriously some weeks ago she’d said, ‘Have a good day Bill,’ although Faith knew that wasn’t going to happen. The pity on her face was a welcome relief, though.

‘Okay, cheers mate,’ I replied. She flinched prompting me to ask her name. I should have noticed how fragile Faith was. It was a pathetic stare from my scruffy greyhound that clinched the deal; she was a sucker for Mitch’s wide-eyed hook. She winced at my sigh resulting from a head full of the old battle nightmares. Sleep only happened in cat naps, since active duty. Mike deserved his medal, but my prize should be more than this sorry existence. On a steady decline, there was hope, somewhere. What I needed was the full trilogy- Faith was my luck, I just needed hope then Mike got the glory. That would be us all sorted. Hope was yet to be discovered amongst the daily muddle. All I wanted was peace.


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