Life In Fast Motion

Posted on 28 Jan 2023 @ 6:40pm by 1st Lieutenant James O'Donnaghue
Edited on on 01 Feb 2023 @ 4:07pm

534 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: General Sim Postings
Location: Marine Training Barraks
Timeline: 0500 Hours MD001

[ON]

James always had trouble sleeping but right now what was eating away at him was deep-seated and burning hot like a memory of summers long gone, the young Irish man strode his legs over his bed, yawning like a cat forced to wake up due to its owner's incompetence. He pulled his loose-fitting black jogging pants and his tomcat crew vest over his head. James frequented the ship's marine training barracks during these lonely hours between sleep. At this time of night, no one would be in there.

In his right hand lay the black training duffle that he placed down by the punch bag, unzipping his pack he found his hand wraps and MMA-style gloves. Taking great care to lace each finger with the thick cotton hand wraps, once they were laced onto his hand the leather gloves folded easily around his formed hands.

“Computer Play Ozzy Osbourne-Crazy Train Low Volume please” He stepped to the side of the punch bag, His hands taking slow and steady hits as he wound up his strength, The war was over right? The dominion had lost? Then why every single night did that last skirmish play out in his head like a badly drawn motion comic that was pencilled by a five-year-old?

He stepped into his cross as a memory flashed into his brain as if his memory was playing out in front of him his hits getting more and more violent. His brain was flashing in and out of the moment he was captured by the Dominion, The pain, the hurt. He looked to his arm where the knife knicks and scars of this very moment were etched permanently in his opaline skin.

James had spent the better part of two years aboard the jackdaw undergoing various counselling sessions to weed out his fragmented mind, even the sedative hyposprays, weren't working to their full desired effect With every single hit into the bag he could feel his hands and eyes begin to buckle.

“AHHHHHHH FRAK THIS” he screamed as he lay kick after kick into the punch bag, the bag began to buckle under the strain of his half-Vulcan strength, After the last kick he crumpled to the floor his leg and arms sore from the misplaced anger hurt and frustration, his eyes streamed with tears as he felt the sting of the warm salty tears on his face, he had held onto these feelings for too long and now it had all came tumbling out in a stream of anger and blood.

Now he could feel the friction barns underneath his hand wraps “Dang it now I gotta explain these burns to the on-duty medical officer” he rolled his eyes as he pulled over his bag and grabbed his bag and unwrapped his wraps revealing bloody burns, taking his water bottle out he poured a little on the wounds and winced visibly and audibly swearing under his breath as he brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head on knee caps wiping his eyes on his bare legs.

[OFF]

 

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