My Hero's Short Story: Druid Traditions

In the morning, I woke and for a moment, I didn’t have any thoughts about the war. That lasted until I went to the toilet. As I replaced the spent roll of toilet paper, I noticed that the motion of reloading the toilet paper rod was almost the same as reloading a clip in my weapon. I had read somewhere that life consists of what you think about. I thought about war every day and all day. It seemed only numbers and listening to my aunt as she taught me about the Druid traditions broke my concentration on war. Even at night, the only planets I could identify were Venus and Mars. The plants identified with love and war. Since, I was a failure at love, Mars was my planet. I learned to identify the constellation of Orion. Orion was blinded in

I was trying to get a hold of my thoughts when the doorbell rang. Throwing on my bathrobe, I went downstairs and answered the door. It was Aunt Colleen. “Is it twelve already,” I asked, thinking that I must have lost time as I fought myself through the maze of my war memories? “No,” Colleen replied, “I had nothing to do this morning. I was at the donut shop and thought I would spend the day with you if that is alright.” “Come on in. I just woke and haven’t made coffee yet,” I replied. “Take a shower. I’ll brew some coffee, and see you when you’re ready.” Colleen said. I went upstairs. I looked in the mirror as I prepared to shave. I thought my face is unrecognizable. I was just another faceless grunt. I survived, but I could have been one of the many who died and recorded on the daily news under light losses suffered in Viet Nam today. Jed was among the 200 who died in a battle in the Delta outside of an unnamed village north of Saigon. I hoped my aunt was not like those obscene hawks who said that you have to expect death. War was messy. You could be hit by a bus or die in battle. I knew war was not like that. I did not find God in battle, I found that life was precious and should not be wasted on ideological battle between