A CHILD IN RED (4): Horrors of War
After breakfast, Walsh returned to his barracks. He was getting frustrated, mostly with Afsoon and the state of things on the COP. Since he arrived, he hadn’t done anything but eat, shower, and be tormented by Afsoon. Some of the other guys were content, but he was growing restless. It may have also been the lack of sleep.
“Qoo qoo qoo,” Afsoon’s song was loud enough to hear outside the barracks. She was singing loudly and off-key.
Miller was droning on about how horny he was and what kind of burger he was going to order when he got home.
I wish I wasn’t the only one who could hear her. Not just because it makes me feel crazy, but then I wouldn’t have to suffer alone.
He found her standing at his desk, drawing a photo of a Humvee rolling down the hill and crushing someone. Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth while she concentrated on coloring the rocks red around the flattened soldier.
I’m not putting up with another day of this. I may not be able to stop her, but I’m not going to make it easier on her.
Afsoon started screaming when he reached over her, sprawling herself across her beloved drawings. Her scream was high and piercing, so sharp it made his teeth hurt. The sound filled the room, rattling something deep in his skull. He felt like a dog caught in a fire alarm.
I don’t care. This game is over.
He picked her up and set her at the edge of the bed. She squirmed in his arms and tried to get to the table before he cleared it, but she was too slow.
Her shrill scream followed him out the door.
She wasn’t out of earshot until he was beyond the barrier. Lighting the papers and tossing the crayons on top, he didn’t leave until the papers were black and the crayons were a pool of drying wax slowly dripping into the barrel.
He didn’t see her the rest of the day. His room felt eerily quiet, and he missed having her company with him while he watched movies until the lights went out, even if her company was a bit more morbid than he preferred.
Another twenty minutes passed before he finally decided to give in and try to sleep.
Walsh slid under his covers and turned his back to his door. That was when he heard her small sandals dragging across his wooden floor. She kicked them off at the box he had set up as a step for her and climbed into bed.
I hope she is here to apologize.
But he knew better.
Adjusting herself beside him, she put her small hand on his shoulder and leaned into his ear. “Ta mata darogh wowel,” she whispered.
“Zaa baa valiskala taso taa ejaza warnakram chi ma pregdam.”
“Zaa baa taata da valagha saa saza darkram chi ta wakral.”
Walsh rolled over and looked her in the face. The dim light highlighted her round features and big eyes.
Maybe if I ignore her.
She wouldn’t let him. She followed in every direction he rolled, always whispering into his ear, never letting him relax enough to fall asleep.
The night dragged on for what seemed like an eternity.
Every time he blinked, her green eyes were there, almost glowing in the dark, inches from his face.
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The Story continues in The Horrors of War series.
If you want to know what happens after the last drawing burns, explore the larger story in Objective Two (OBJ 2)—a novel that expands beyond Kevin’s perspective and dives deeper into the haunted valley of Najil, the soldiers who survive him, and the darkness that won’t let them go.
Download Objective 2 – EPUB, MOBI, PDF
Book one of The Horrors of War series is available here.
