This post was inspired by today's 5-minute writing prompt in the Freewriters Community - Familiar Face
Enjoy !
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
It was the first time they'd let him look in the mirror.
He'd been kept sedated for... how long ? Two, maybe three months.
His dreams during that time, well, nightmares really, had been terrible.
Flashbacks. The noise of battle; the main gun firing over and over like a drumbeat. Tracks squealing and grinding. Vivid images of the three drones smashing into his tank in rapid succession. The desperate scramble to get out while flames licked at ammunition that was already starting to cook off in it's racks. Falling onto hard earth as the turret flew skyward over him, trailing fire.
The evacuation was less clear. A red haze of pain with spikes as the tracked carrier bounced over furrows and craters, hammering from one treeline to the next at breakneck speed.
Then silence, the smell of antiseptic, the quiet talk of doctors and nurses. Talking about him, over his head.
Now, he looked in the mirror. He saw scars, dotted lines where stitches had been removed. A red patch where burned skin was still freshly healing. New lines around his eyes and on his forehead, engraved by stress and pain. In three months, he had aged ten years.
But somehow, it was still his old, familiar face. His wife would still recognise him when he went home. At least he had that.
His comrades, the rest of his crew, not so much. He didn't look forward to telling their wives that they were now widows.