danimal3378
Interesting Title
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2007
- Posts
- 1,241
Thomas P. Hillbroke was on his final flight, a short jump to the local airport. He had been 22 when he had signed up for the military, 8 years later he was on his way home. Having served his final mission; not quite the way he had planned it, but his last none the less. For seven year he'd served his country and took pride in the efforts he and his team had taken to bring safety to the world - it had went well, he'd been through numerous scrapes and skirmishes and luck had been on his side. He had to remind himself he still was lucky; lucky to be here, lucky to be coming home, lucky to be alive even if he may never walk the same. The missile strike had thrown him clear of the transport unit; he didn’t even remember the feeling of it all, just the sound…the whoosh of the explosion even now would wake him with a start in the night. It had only been minutes, but it felt like forever till the Apache choppers were down and pulling out what remained of the team… him.
Six months later he was finally headed home, a shell of his former self. He was a different man than the one who had set off eight years earlier, both in ways that were easy to see and those hidden within. Home… if you could call it that; he had never planned to come back to this place. Shaking his head at the thoughts; his mind rushes into the present as he feels the wheels of the plane hit the ground.
Once the plane hits the terminal, he waits for the other to get off, collects his bag, and slowly makes his way up the ramp. At the gate he’s greeted by his Dad, a hulk of a man who keeps his emotions hidden; yet here they are, in a deep long hug. The drive from the airport was mostly silent, a reflection of the effect the years had had on not only him, but the town he left behind. Seeing the closed ice cream parlor – long since closed, the high school tore down and replaced, how can this be home? However as they pull in the drive he sees the old house, much the same as when he left. At least some things don’t change.
Six months later he was finally headed home, a shell of his former self. He was a different man than the one who had set off eight years earlier, both in ways that were easy to see and those hidden within. Home… if you could call it that; he had never planned to come back to this place. Shaking his head at the thoughts; his mind rushes into the present as he feels the wheels of the plane hit the ground.
Once the plane hits the terminal, he waits for the other to get off, collects his bag, and slowly makes his way up the ramp. At the gate he’s greeted by his Dad, a hulk of a man who keeps his emotions hidden; yet here they are, in a deep long hug. The drive from the airport was mostly silent, a reflection of the effect the years had had on not only him, but the town he left behind. Seeing the closed ice cream parlor – long since closed, the high school tore down and replaced, how can this be home? However as they pull in the drive he sees the old house, much the same as when he left. At least some things don’t change.
