When Johnny Comes Marching Home - Exercise in Genre

Paranormal

Paranormal

A/N

I am not too familiar with the Paranormal genre, though I did read a bit of stories involving character with strange powers, or ghosts.

This piece is dedicated to Drago (E.J. Kellan). Drago stories will show you that life is not all pink and easy. Though life can be hard and unpredictable, there is always hope. Hope and love. Drago’s stories will teach you that whatever the journey, you will always reach home. A home with warmth, peace and love.

 

Johnny was finally going back home. He thought he would be staying on the battlefield, a lying corpse among red poppies. The last explosion sent him flying a good distance away from the impact. His return was real though.

Since he started fighting in this war, he felt less and less human. He saw so many atrocities, felt the despair and experienced fear. He wanted to make a difference, at first, then the only difference that mattered by the end was that he remained on his two feet, alive, somehow.

Since this last explosion, it was the end of the war for him. This last action signed his return to civilisation, his retirement. He had done his time, and it finished here. Other younger men would take his place on the battlefield, others would kill and die. He would be home.

The transport home was aerial, Johnny could have swear he was floating as he watched the Nature scroll by the window. He didn’t feel the time pass, enraptured by the beauty outside. Calm and peace was invading him.

As he approached home, his apprehension rose, however. He wondered what would await him. Would his parents welcome him with joy or with sorrow? Would the neighbours cheer with him? Would the old monastery’s bells ring for him?

His parents met him halfway, to accompany him home. His father was still driving the old car he had years ago when he left for war. It was funny how so little things changed. It was reassuring, somehow, giving a feeling of continuity and serenity. Johnny’s mother was crying. It seemed also comforting for him, his mother being quite an emotional, loving and caring woman. Seeing her crying in joy and in pain equated to being back home.  

His parents were discussing about how they would reach the church soon and how all the village would be there to welcome Johnny back home. There was a party organised afterward, he understood. He was impatient now, to be back, to re-join with old friends, to be able to see again the faces of his loved ones. And then, there was Irene. He felt goose bumps all over his skin in anticipation, seeing her again would be the apogee of his return.

Passing through the Church’s gate, Johnny felt the solemn atmosphere. It was an occasion for all to thank God for the return of one of their own. Accompanied by his parents, he took place in the centre of the nave, waiting for the office to start. His old friends came to him, one by one, welcoming him back home. They talked about the past, those moments when they were young and carefree.

The mass went along, the priest inviting Johnny's loved ones to say a world to all, to share memories of joy and happiness. There was a lot of feelings, his mother cried, his sister's chatter reduced to a trembling voice.  Irene was there, hesitating. He saw the emotions in her eyes. It was heart-breaking. It was heart-warming.

Johnny listened to all, basking in the moment. He felt elated. Mass finished, everyone followed in procession to the cemetery. Recently, a memorial was erected, to honnor their fallen.  The stone was three meters high, few names engraved on the monolith. They were old friends, playmates and comrades in arm.

Johnny stayed silent a moment, remembering the faces of the ones he lost. He looked around at the thoughtful and sorrowful faces. There were flowers everywhere. He recognised the posies from his father's garden. At this moment, with his family and friends, with the smell of the beautiful flowers he loved, at that moment he knew he was really back home. He could finally rest and find peace.

Irene came to him, talking to him as she looked at the monument. She told him how she missed him, how she loved him. How life was hard without him. She spread her hand toward the engraved names, slightly brushing them, as if caressing the letters with her fingertips. Her emotion was palpable has she stopped on one of the name. Johnny tried to take her in his arms, to give her his warmth and love. He wanted to wipe the years falling on her beautiful face. He just stayed there, silently, beside her. They looked at the names on the stone. They looked at this name. It read Johnny...