Walking into the monument was like wading through elephant grass that had been booby trapped. Somewhere nearby, an unknown elbow; somewhere to my side, my father’s shadow melded to my son’s. I watched our combined reflections grow taller as we sank lower into the V-shaped pathway.
“The villagers’ teeth were black as this granite, “ my father tapped, “from chewing betel nuts.” He looked at our reflection on the gray wall. Frozen.
He leaned in.“Enemies looked exactly like allies.”
“Enough to make you sick before you got sick,” I said, trying to return him to the present.
My father stopped in front of another panel near the deepest part of the bend.“It was an ambush, you know?All these guys died this very day. I know because I saw it happen. ”My father saluted all of the names swallowed up by the cold.
© 2024 | K.F. Hartless
d”Verse Poets Pub | Prosery
144 words to include a line from “After someone’s death” by Swedish Nobel Laureate Tomas Tranströmer.
Photo By:Marvin Lynchard, DOD
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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