My wrists hurt. I can’t think of anything else but the pain. Nothing matters anymore. My world is only pain, darkness, hunger, and more pain. Have I even slept? I’m not sure. There’s so little light here that I can’t tell if my eyes are opened or closed. Maybe I have slept. Maybe I am asleep. Perhaps this is all a dream, a figment of my imagination. In reality, I am at home, warm and cozy in my bed, dreaming the long night away. In fact, if I try really hard, I can probably wake myself up. It’s probably almost time for my alarm to go off anyway...

          “Silence!” The booming voice of the guard shakes me out of my hypnotic state. I’m confused at first, then it slowly starts to come to me. The rusted iron cuffs around my wrist begin grinding into my oozing, smelling sores. Good thing it is dark in my cell, I’d hate to see the state of my body. All I know is I can’t sleep lying down or I stop breathing. That’s not good, right?

          “Hey! Lu! Are you awake, man?” Burkheart whispers from across the room. He should have known better than to ask me that. Who could ever sleep in prison? Maybe I should back up and explain my situation. My name is Private Joseph Luciano and I am being held as a prisoner of war.

          The details of how I got here are as blurry and confusing as a nightmare. Some weeks ago I was driving in a platoon of supply trucks bound for the village of Kirkuk, Iraq. All I remember was a bright orange ball of fire smashing through the back window of our Hummer, and then everything went black. When I came to, I was lying in a pool of my own blood on the sizzling desert sand. The sun was so brilliant that I could only make out shadows of the people around me. I saw my good friend Correlly lying a few feet to my right. His head was tucked under his chest, his crunched vertebrae poking through his skin. To my left was the severed head of Tex, a new kid who had been shipped to Iraq only two days before. I buried my face in the sand, about to be sick, unable to make sense of everything that had just happened. Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm and jerked me to my feet. My legs buckled from the sharp pain in my knee.

          “Stand up!” The man who held me was over six feet tall with chocolate brown skin and a square jaw line. He glared down at me with menacing, black eyes. His baret told me he was one of Saddam’s.

          He yelled something in another language and then shoved me. I landed a few feet away, next to a man I recognized as Sergeant Burkheart. He was unconscious and barely breathing. But he was alive.A wave of sickness overcame me as I realized the horrifying truth: we were the only two that were left.

          I must have blacked out again because some hours later I found myself on a cold, stony floor. Though I had been burning up earlier, the floor was now much too cold and shivers periodically sent me into convulsions. I had not been aware of the pain before, but now I was nauseated by the sharp throbbing in my head, and the piercing pain under my ribs. Slowly I pushed myself to my feet, feeling the blood drain through my body.

          “Are you okay, man?” Sergeant Burkheart’s husky voice startled me.

          “I think so.” I mumbled, not sure if he could even hear me.

          “I thought you were...” He trailed off. He didn’t have to say it. Dead. He thought I was dead. At this point, I wished I was.

          The room around me was completely dark, save a few rays of pale, yellow light filtering through the cracks in the wall. My heart stopped beating as I realized where I was. I was in an Iraqi prisoner of war camp. A few months earlier I had rescued a couple of G.I.s from a cell just like this one. Now I was the one who needed rescuing.

           The panic hit me head on like a train at full speed. What if no one realized that our platoon was missing? What if we had been taken across the border into Saudi Arabia or Iran where no American troops would dare to venture? Would I make it out of this alive? Would I ever see my wife, or son, or home again?

           Suddenly the iron door of the cell swung open and a man stepped in. I couldn’t make out his features, for the light behind him cast a shadow over his enormous figure. Three other men with rifles stood against the wall in the hallway behind him.

          “So,” he breathed heavily into my face, “do you American pigs need to tell something?” His breath reeked of tobacco and liquor.

          “What do you mean?” I asked, trying not to let fear quiver my voice. I honestly had no idea what he wanted me to say. The only operations I was ever involved in was the rescuing of American soldiers from prisoner of war camps. Perhaps these men had mistaken my platoon for the one that transported Iraqi prisoners from one American camp to the next.

          “You know exactly what I mean.” he hissed, spraying saliva into my face.

          “Why don’t you take that rifle of yours and stick it...” The man shoved me aside and grabbed Burkheart by the throat. He lifted him so that Burkheart’s feet barely scraped the ground.

          “What you say, pig?” Burkheart began to gurgle, clawing desperately at the hand that was choking off his air supply. The man dropped him and kicked him once in the face and twice in the stomach. Burkheart didn’t move, and neither did I. The man stormed out, slamming the iron door behind him.

          “Sergeant?” I whispered, afraid of not getting a reply. Burkheart moaned but said nothing. Crawling on all fours, I groped blindly around the room until my hands found a small, metal cot with a tattered mattress and wool blanket. I pulled myself onto the bed and wrapped myself in the blanket, hating its smell but loving the comfort it provided. I have not moved from the bed since.

          “Hey, Lu, look at this.” Burkheart threw something onto my bed. I picked it up. It was a spoon. “Yeah, so?” I said, rubbing the handle between my thumb and finger.

          “Lu, we can use that thing to dig our way out of here! I got one for me too.” He began tapping his spoon rhythmically on the floor.

          “You do that. Come and get me when you get through that rock.” I turned over, facing the wall.

           “This isn’t rock. It’s sandstone. And it’s soft.” I didn’t pay much mind. For the past few days Burk had been talking crazy. I think he suffered from fever or infection or something. Yesterday he sat in the corner and had a conversation with his wife, who had been killed in friendly fire a few months earlier. He had totally lost it. It was unnerving to watch a man of such stature, strength, and power slowly slip away. I would surely be next...I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the scraping of Burk’s spoon against the wall.

           “She loves you yeah, yeah, yeah, she loves you yeah, yeah, yeah.” I tried singing my favorite Beatle’s songs, hoping to get them stuck in my head to block out the noise. It worked, for I soon drifted off to sleep.

          I don’t know how long I slept but I was suddenly jolted awake by Burk’s screams. I whipped around only to see Burk’s body being thrown across the room into the wall.

          “Where are my people!” The guard screamed at Burk, sticking his rifle to Burk’s temple.

          “I don’t know! I don't know where we keep our imprisoned scum!  For all I care, your soldiers are probably dead and rotting somewhere in...” The guard smashed his foot through Burk’s front teeth.

          “You know where they at! Tell me!” He was becoming more and more agitated by the second. My heart pounded. Don’t do it, Burk. Don’t say anything that’s going to get yourself killed. I will be all alone. I can’t live like that...

          “Screw you. Long live Bush. Long live Capitalism. Long live America. Do you understand me?” Burk’s voice was low and evil, almost as threatening as that of our captors.

          “You not live.” The guard whispered. A crack of fire later, and Burk was dead, his brains splattered all over the wall.

          “No. No!” I whispered, the tears streaming down my face. Someone yelled in the hallway. The guard quickly turned and left.

          “Burk! No...” My heart was heavy with sorrow. A knot swelled in my throat and threatened to choke off my air supply. Until this point I thought I had been strong. I endured the beatings, the starvation, the impenetrable cold. Now I lost it. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I turned back to the wall and for the first time since my captivity, I wept.

          Days must have passed. I lay in a stupor, unable to comprehend anything. I stopped being tired, stopped feeling hunger. Even the rotting sores on my wrists had ceased to hurt. It was only when the smell of Burk’s decaying body began to reach my nose, did I finally drift back into reality, or some sick version of it.

          This was it. It was over. But was I going to go down without a fight? I might as well give it my best shot, right? Isn’t that the American motto? Well, one of them anyway. I still had the spoon Burk had given me. Maybe I could dig my way through this wall.

          Slowly I made my way over to Burk’s bed, being careful to take the long way around his fly-infested body. My hands fell on his broken bed and I shoved it out of the way as quietly as I could. I felt around the wall and discovered 2x2 hole about three inches deep. This was a good start. At first I was slow at scraping the stone, making as little noise as possible. Every few minutes I stopped and swept the sand into a pile, then poured it into a tear in Burk’s matters. This process drew on for hours, my confidence growing with each passing minute. After a few hours I was slashing away into the sandstone, sometimes breaking large chunks away with my bare hands. It was just like building a sand castle when I was a kid on the Jersey shore, so many years ago.

           I remember the summer of ‘78, I was only eight then but I was a heck of a sculptor. Every year my hometown had a sand sculpting contest for people of all ages. The grand prize was a whopping one hundred dollars. That year I spent hours and hours carefully crafting a wizard and his pet dragon out of specially colored sand. I used marbles for the eyes and even inserted a smoke bomb into the dragon’s mouth to make him breathe fire. The judges loved it. They called me “The Magician” for my secretive ways of making my sculpture come alive. They said I could be the next Houdini. If only I could wave a magic wand and make myself disappear out of this mess...

          My hand broke through the stone and into hot, windy desert air. I peered through the hole and for the first time in months I saw the twinkling of a flawless summer night. The sand kicked up and twisted and twirled across the wide open yard that was behind the prison. There was a tall tower to my left, with a guard on watch and a a rotating spotlight. I counted the spotlight’s revolutions. It took 123 seconds for the beam of light to make a complete sweep of the yard. Directly in front lay an obstacle coarse with cut outs of human figures, stacks of barrels, and shrapnel. Further in the distance I could barely make out a chain link fence bordered by more barbed wire. How in the world was I ever supposed to get myself out of this?

          I tore away the rest of the stone until I made a hole that was big enough for me to squeeze through. I didn’t stop to think. I knew that if I thought about it I would never do it. It was now or never. Either die trying or just plain die.

          I waited until the light passed by me and then broke out into a full sprint. I was heading in a straight line, my destination a small group of barrels on the far side of the obstacle course. Once I got there, I would wait until the light passed and then run again.

          It seemed as if I ran forever. I watched the light make its way around, seemingly at hyper speed, heading right for me. My life began to play out before my eyes. I saw my first summer at the beach, my first baseball game, my graduation, the birth of my son. All major, life changing events. Though they paled in comparison now.

           I reached the barrels, almost slamming into them head on. Just barely, as the light was within inches of exposing me. I only had a split second, then I took off again. The wind whistled through my lungs and out my nose. Pain rang in my ears and my brain. But I was numb to it all. It was only a matter of survival now.

          I reached a small wall of cinder blocks and crouched down. The light slid past in slow motion. “Long live Bush.” I jumped the wall of blocks and ran again, my feet slipping and sliding through the sand. I dove behind a pile of shrapnel.

          “Long live Capitalism.” The light skid past and I was off again. This time the wind picked up, blowing a mighty gale, driving bits of sand and rock into my skin, but it created a smoke cloud for me to move undetected through. I was more than two-thirds of the way. One more sprint and I’d be there... I reached the targets.

          “Long live America.” I took off again, this time a second too soon. The light grazed my head.

          “You! Stop!” The guard’s voice seemed far away. Then came the bullets. They rained down upon me, thumping as they disappeared in a poof of sand into the melting earth. One sliced through the meat of my tricep, tearing my muscle into shreds. I could have stopped there, but I didn’t. I could see the light up ahead. I wasn’t sure if it was heaven or the sun, but there was definitely light on the horizon. First there was one, then two, then six, then hundreds. Aliens maybe? Who knew. At this point I was up for abduction. Anything to get me out of here.

          I reached the chain link fence and propelled myself upward, using everything I had to hold on. The chain cut into my fingers and my cuffs prevented me from reaching very far. By now the bullets had stopped, but the yelling continued. Something was going on, though I wasn’t quite sure what. I climbed and climbed, feeling as if I was getting no where fast. Would I ever reach the top?

          A barb sliced my cheek open and I jerked my head back. My left hand felt around and grabbed the support pole. I grabbed the barbed wire with my right hand, the pole with my left, and lifted myself up. My foot found the top of the pole and I pushed off hard, then tucked my legs under and closed my eyes.

          My skin tensed, chills ran through my body. I braced myself for the feeling of razor sharp barbs grabbing hold and ripping through my skin. I fell forever, the seconds ticking by slowly. I wondered how high I had jumped, and how long it was going to take for me to get caught in the barb and die.

          My legs shot into a pile of sand and I laid still for a moment. I opened my eyes and saw that the sky was still there, and everything was as it should be. How did I make it? It must have been magic.

          “Hey!” My heart sank. After all that I was caught. All that effort and I couldn’t even have one small lick of freedom. Surely they would kill me now. I turned my head, expecting to see the dark, shadowy figure that was the face of my captor. Instead I saw streaks of red, white, and blue against a glowing horizon. An American flag billowed from a towering, green tank. The man talking to me was an American soldier.

           “Are you okay?” He said with a glimmer of concern in his eye. “No.” I replied and smiled. He smiled back.

          “Well you are now, man.”

Great story, Megan!!! Love the detail even if it is a bit gory. A few suggestions: All I remember is instead of was for verb tense. Did you mean beret instead of barrette? His breath reeked of tobacco .... instead of voice. Fly-invested... put the hyphen in. The only plot part I wonder about is perhaps a better reason for why Burk is killed. Don't really understand why the guard is asking him where his people went.

Gore and violence, YAY! Hehe. I love the descriptive words you use, makes it vivid and colorfull. The topic is one I found myself very interested in...and handled very well.

I loved the character Burk. He just seemed so real. This was a great story. It really makes me have more respect for those in the army. I don't know if thats what you were going for but thats how it settled with me. I also really like how one minute I thought "the main character was going to die" then the next "oh wait hes gonna live" A lot of suspnse. Great job.

This is a good story you have good details and good explaning! I felt like i was in that hole with the 2 guys as i was reading it!

i love the realistic details, and your discriptions make you feel for the character, sympathize with him, good job

Meg i dont know of anything i would do to your story. The details, setting, everything is wonderful.

you hocked me in the first few words with your description of your pain it makes you want to knwo why u are in pain so it forces the reader to read more to know everything and since this is more of my type of reading and writing i loved it mood and setting flow togther good making the story oh so real to some one with a gooe imagination good show and great work

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