It's that day of the week again -- time for another snippet from my work-in-progress, 'The Return'. Be sure to check out other indie authors' WIPs at the following website: http://www.alanaterry.com/blog/christian-fiction-friday-youth-group-van1.
Enjoy, and be sure to check back next Friday for more!
There was no telling what would set them off. The slamming of a door. A car backfiring. The sound of gun shots. Even fireworks. But the flashbacks were always the same. And they were so horrifyingly real. The sounds, smells, sights--all of it--were so clear. So realistic that, when they passed, he was always shocked to discover he wasn’t still there.
In his own personal hell, where he’d been trapped for the last six years.
He was aware that nobody else could see, hear, or smell the same things he did, and that made it all the more difficult to be around people. As a result, he’d long since given up the idea of returning to a normal life.
This time, the trigger had been something new. Someone in the motel room above him had dropped something heavy on the floor. Instantly, he’d been transported back to the days leading up to The Event. He’d been a soldier for a long time and he’d seen a lot of carnage and death in that amount of time. But nothing like that week from hell.
With nothing but sheer force of will, he tore his mind from the darkness of those memories and back to the present. The breathing exercises he’d learned long ago helped calm his racing heart. As did one other thing.
There were gaping holes in his memory. Some things he could see in vidid detail in his mind’s eye. Others were only clear in the flashbacks. But all of his recent memories contained more holes than a slice of swiss cheese.
All of his memories, save one.
The memories of her face.