This is calm after the storm.
Or perhaps it’s just a brief respite before the winds howl and the thunder cries and the lightning flashes and all is lost in shadows and sounds.
He kneels down with the dog, hearing the canine’s whimpers. The dog is terrified despite its training. So is he. Training can never prepare you for Hell. When Charon carries you over that river, nothing can prepare you for what you’ll find on the other side.
The soldier holds the dog close. Skin touches fur. The dog’s whimpering goes quieter and he can feel his own pain, the screams and bullet fire that will never stop, slowly ebb away.
It isn’t over; he knows that and he thinks the dog does too. This moment of peace will have to be enough to keep them both going.
They still have to ride out the rest of the storm.
Word Count: 150
This is my entry for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thank you to Priceless Joy for running the challenge. Photo credit goes to pixabay.com.