A Lifetime of Love Is Not Enough

We relaxed as we watched fireflies dance in the trees: trees that seemed to be doing an eerie dance of their own in the glow of the fire. The splendor of the full moon made it light enough for us to see a group of deer as they came out to feed. Everyone was in awe and being very quiet. I could hear the crackle of the fire until Paul broke the silence. With beer in hand he almost tumbled into the fire. “This is a true story.” He laughed. “Yeah sure it is.” Someone taunted. “Honest.” Paul crossed his heart as a child would. He steadied himself then started his story. “There was this American soldier who had been specially trained to sneak up on the enemy at night. He would sneak up on the camp with only the glow of their fire to see by then he would cut and slash until all were dead. They say that once an enemy soldier tried to surrender. The American soldier just smiled at the man and then with one swing of a sword chopped the guy’s head off. They say it happened so fast the soldier was able to spit in the fucker’s eyes before they closed and his head fell off. The girl’s groaned while the guys encouraged Paul to tell the rest of the story. When the war was over they brought the guy home. He thought he was still out there on maneuvers so they put him in the psych ward for years. It was years before he got out. They found him a job as a janitor in small town. He was doing real we good until one night the local school had a bon fire for homecoming. It was dark when this guy drove by and all he could see were silhouettes around the fire. He snapped killed twenty people and was about to kill number twenty-one. They say it was young girl kneeling in front of him. She was praying and pleading for her life when he stopped mid-swing. He blinked his eyes and shook his head as if awakening from a dream. He took a step back and looked around at what he had done. He looked at the girl before him, screamed no then ran off into the woods still clutching the knife. There was a huge manhunt but he was never found. Some think he realized what he had done, went off somewhere and killed himself, however others think that he is still living out there in the woods,” Paul peered off into the darkness, “just waiting to strike again.” It was a new spin on an old tale yet it was still effective. After Paul’s tale everyone got ready to head home. Later that night I awoke to a gentle tapping, I slowly opened one eye then the other. Silently cursing the interruption and unable to keep them open I was soon drifting back into a deep sleep and the wonderful world of dreams. However I was no longer in the peaceful world of dreams, now I was trembling, kneeling in front of a Marine wearing his dress blues with a huge knife in his hand. It was long, sharp and glistened in the glow of a fire. I could feel the rush of air as it neared my neck, the sharpness as it touched my skin. If the persistent pounding at the door had not pulled me from my dream, I would surely have lost my head. So vivid was the dream that when I sat up, my hands immediately went up to my neck. I’m not sure if I were checking for a wound or trying to catch my head. I was short of breath and glad that it had only been a dream.