Saturday, July 17, 2010

Excerpt from a Piece I'm Beginning

This was written on July 18, 2010

The moisture left Ethan's mouth to be collected by the fabric naught but an inch from his face. It hadn't been long since they'd thrown the bag over his head, maybe a night and half of a day. To Ethan it didn't feel like more than a couple hours, not that it mattered. He was doing his best to concentrate on every sound and smell that he had sensed as they drug him away from the alley they captured him in. He didn't resist, he knew better than to resist when dealing with terrorists. He would sit and wait, using what information he had to his advantage, occasionally he shifted his hands so the sweat rolling down his arms slid into the joints of the cuffs holding him together.

Ethan was a trained man, he'd been through a lot in what little time he'd been serving the United States military. Every experience more rich and fulfilling than the last, he seemed to grow spiritually from the struggles that his job put him through. His training meant nothing before his utter calm nature, his willingness to concentrate on the moment. The moment is all that mattered, nothing else. Survival was pointless as death comes to all who live and worrying about whether or not he would die was then a waste of time.

Ethan began breathing slowly and deeply, feeling through his body for all injuries. His heart beat slowing and strengthening with his deep breathing. Every pulse sent blood coursing to the areas that needed it the most, revealing his injuries within moments. His left forearm had a small fracture from when he'd blocked a kick in the alley. His right leg had a large bruise from being thrown into the van and taken to wherever he was now.

The door swinging open broke his concentration, the metal screeched against the stone floor. The loose brackets holding the door in place allowed it to swing at just the right angle to scrape the floor. Heavy footsteps could be heard resounding throughout the room, bouncing off of the single chair that Ethan sat upon, the room wasn't large, probably an old prison cell. Ethan smiled from behind his bag, he had no reason to smile. He heard a gun cock and felt the cold metal pressed against his temple even through the bag. He never had the chance to hear the gun fire, before he had a chance even the little bits of light that were left to be seen through the bag disappeared. The world swirled around him as he hit the floor, the back of the chair breaking off, releasing him. As he hit the floor the large man who had just been holding a gun to his temple hit the floor beside him. Ethan smiled, now he had reason, life for him would continue, even if only for a little longer.

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