The Man Without a Face (A Countdown of Hours)

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A Few Beginning Notes: This is a completely fictional poem/story about war. The man in this story I have personally named "Mike" as that seems to be the name of the tiny man in my subconsious who gave me the idea. You may call him whatever you like, as a matter of fact, if you review/comment I'd like to know your name for him if you gave him one subconsiously or otherwise. "Mike" is about 28, he has a wife and a baby boy. You will understand that "She" and "He"change meanings often during the story, as will certain lines. Finally, I'd like to thank you for reading and understand that this is meant to bring a human aspect to something that seems to not often be humanized. Enjoy.

36 hours.
A dangerous number to keep.
The sound of an automatic weapon
Makes me lurch to my feet.
No, keep your head on, focus.
You only have 36 hours left.

35 hours.
A hidden line.
Theres something in the distance
That we can't define.
Man Down! Man Down! But we keep our wits.
You only have 35 hours left.

34 hours.
With us the sky bleeds.
Pink, orange, yellow and finally night.
Dark and cool, positions await.
Hidden and cold.Keep pushing through.
You only have 34 hours left.

33 hours.
The sounds of war peal out among the men.
Sounds that never leave.
A war within itself, me against the sounds.
They win, I lose sleep.
You only have 33 hours left.

32 hours.
A click and a boom.
The light so bright it hurts.
Pain. And I scream.
It burns, it burns, it burns.
You only have 32 hours left?

28 hours.
She said I'd been out for hours.
I'd be ok after surgery.
Would I be back in the field soon?
I had no voice. She left.
You only have 28 hours left.

25 hours.
He said the surgery went well.
I will never be the same.
I could tell.
Hard to breath, hard to see.
You only have 25 hours left.

23 hours.
I stare for an eternity.
It's not mine, can't be.
I have a face.
He has bandages.
You only have 23 hours left.

22 hours.
What will she think?
Can I kiss her?
Will she love me still?
I cannot cry.
You have 22 hours left.

20 hours.
I may have gone blind.
I see my vitals on a screen.
Beep. Beep. CRASH.
Shut the hell up.
You only have 20 hours left.

15 hours.
They aren't happy. Good.
They say I'm going home.
They give me a board.
I'll talk tomorrow.
You only have 15 hours left.

13 hours.
Copter blades swish.
I can walk, I'm in a wheelchair anyway.
My voice is hoarse, mouth hardly opens.
We land, A commercial airline. Fuck.
You only have 13 hours left.

12 hours.
People stare at my face
Until they see my uniform.
They appologize.
For what?
You only have 12 hours left.

11 hours.
Baby boy. She had screamed.
We were having a baby boy.
Would he love me?
Would he be afraid of a father with no face?
You only have 11 hours left.

9 hours.
Refreshments? Don't look at my face.
My only bag pulled close.
Hard to breath again.
What will they do?
You only have 9 hours left.

8 hours.
We are now landing. Put on your seatbelts.
Replace your trays in the 'Up' position.
Would they know its me?
I look at my nametag. Right.
You only have 8 hours left.

7 hours.
I've been spotted.
She runs over smiling.
Sorry, shes so sorry.
She loves me. She! Loves! Me!
You only have 7 hours left.

6 hours.
He reaches out. His hand on my heart.
Tiny hands, tiny toes.
Only a year hes had to grow.
I take him. My arms around my baby boy.
You only have 6 hours left!

4 hours.
A house, my house.
I walk inside. The same.
A beautiful same.
Finally, I cry.
You only have 4 hours left.

3 hours.
He's in bed. She listens.
A horror story, a bomb, an ugly man.
She cuts me short. No.
A beautiful man. HER man.
You only have 3 hours left.

2 hours.
The house is silent.
Her hair glows on my shoulder.
If I had a face I'd bury it in her hair.
But I don't.
You ONLY have 2 hours left.

1 hour.
She takes my hand and leads.
Our bedroom, Our bed.
I lie down, her next to me.
I love you. And she does.
You only have one hour left.

Times up.
Shes asleep in my arms.
Face in my chest. Warm and alive.
How much I had missed her.
The sounds are trying, I drive them out.
Times up, so sleep.
O thin men of Haddam,/Why do you imagine golden birds?/Do you not see how the blackbird/Walks around the feet/Of the women about you?
-Wallace Stevens




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Your wizardry in this piece is full of emotion. The tale of a soldier who returns from war without barely a face at all, yet is loved by his wife and child in the end. I declare this piece a beautiful piece, written by the hands of a devoted writer. Keep writing for the sake of writing and soon other readers will be drawn to your wizardry of words.
Look down and show some mercy if you can.
Look down, look down, upon your fellow man.

~~~Les Miserables




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Wizadry is just right, perfect way to describe your magic usage of words. The whole coundown of hours thing gave it a nice, dramatic effect. I read this to my mom and she literally shed a tear, even if it was just one. I think it takes a really good writer to make someones emotions show like that. Well done mate.
I named the man in the poem Peter by the way.. Peter seems to be more fitting for a man without a face.

Furthermore, i'm generally more into love peoms but this is definately an exception to the rule.

A good read indeed.




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Hey!

I really liked this....which is suprising as it's not usually the type of writing i like. I'd perhaps appreciate a little more form in the poem, i.e. a steady metre.

I really like the countdown (even though i was little dissapointed he didn't die, but oh well!) though it did give the piece purpose. Mike, as you've called him, (In my head he seemed a john), seems to have no opinion of the war. He's been through all this and he's worried about rejection and what have you, but yet very little emotion towards the actual war itself seems to be portrayed. Was this intentional or is it just me? Get back to me!

Also, is she pregnant, or they have a son. I was confused a little, as i thought she was pregenant and then the son touched him and i was what? :P :P

Overall; 'tis an extremely strong piece and i urge you to write more :D

Keep it up, let me know if you need anything :D

~Retro Disco666

p.s. which war is it set in? or a fictional one>?
'I have loved to the point of madness, which for me is the only true way to love'
~Francoise Sagan




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Oh my god this was so intense.. I had to read faster and faster cause I was holding my breath until the countdown came to an end! I love your imagery and the way you tell a tale of what's going on inside the head of a soldier! I love how often it's only described what has changed on the inside of a soldier when he returns from the war and that his bruises and scars on the outside have no meaning but... well, it must be horrible to be so utterly changed on the outside that you don't think your loved once will recognize your inside and still love you! I really think you captured that and made this in to such an amazing poem though! Very well done!

Good Luck & Keep Writing

// Demoness
"Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice." - Robert Frost




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Well, that sure was intense! I agree with you: it is the best thing you have ever written. I have read all your other stuff, and I have to say it kicks their behinds! I loved it. I loved the way you counted it down until they both go to sleep. It also seems like a running metaphor for some life-ending disease likes AIDs or Cancer, something which is impossible to cure. I loved the ongoing countdown to no end, it was a flawless piece of magic. Excellent! Loved every line of it.



i exist in a constant state of confusion so its ok
— veeren