February, a season all of its own....locked between winter and spring, waiting....
The snow has cleared here in much appreciated sunshine that resulted in melting, but there might be more coming. So we wait for spring. Meanwhile I am surprised and pleased to see two new Followers. Welcome to Poetic Justice and Cathy C. Hall!
Today is Saturday Centus and Jenny threw out one crazy prompt again! That means we have to write something using the prompt I'd catch a grenade for ya in 100 words or less. My contribution follows. For complete rules visit Jenny at her blog:http://jennymatlock.blogspot.com/2011/02/saturday-centus-id-catch-grenade-for-ya.html.
Life in His Hands
“Medic!” he screamed for the second time, but his call was dulled by the shrieking shrapnel around him. Smoke burned his eyes and reminded him of autumn burns on the Kansas prairie. What was he doing on this Pacific island anyway? Why weren’t the leather harness lines across Old Bette’s black rump in his hands instead of the bloody hand he held?
“Serge, I always said I’d catch a grenade for ya,” whistled the Bronx accent.
“Shut up, Sal. I’m getting you out of here.” He watched without conviction as the soldier’s femoral artery pumped sunset red blood out to moisten the rocky terrain. “Medic!”