So enjoy The Upper Room. See you upstairs.
- Joey Ricciardo
The Upper Room
We were supposed to have won. The enemy had retreated. At least the ones that had survived. The land we fought for was now ours. Yet all of my friends were dead, their bodies strewn through the forest like the fallen leaves of autumn.
For what seemed like hours but were only seconds, I stood until my knees found the cold damp earth beneath them. Then the smell of gun smoke and decaying earth filled my nostrils as my face hit with a dull thump.
When I awoke, night had fallen. I could hear hints of gunfire in the far distance but could see only the silhouettes of trees in the night. The scene reminded me of when I was a child and my friends and I would pitch a tent in the back yard. We would wake up freezing cold the next morning. My nose would be stuffed up and my chest would burn with every frozen breath.