|  Author | Topic: The First Day Home... (Read 42 times) |
Harper, F. H.
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I am not amused, but I am alittle tickled.
Joined: Mar 2008
Gender: Male 
Posts: 3
Location: New York
Karma: 0 |  | The First Day Home...
« Thread Started on Apr 25, 2008, 6:15pm » | ![[Quote]](http://s1.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
Franko drove his car to where the old bakery was, he was dead tired of life, just getting out of the hospital ship he was at since he was shot to hell in Africa. His body was somewhat scathed from the war, nerve damage and a fracture in his left forearm left him able to be ‘Put to sleep’ by the Army Doctors. Yet as hard as the pain was, he took it to the extent that it would kill a lesser man. And Franko knew all too well about this feeling, since his co-pilot suffered the fate opposite of Franko. Though he never spoke of Lieutenant Burke, it was too harsh for him to face the reality of the death of his closest friend.
At the calm age of 32, he is well built, but has a slight limp. His hair looks good, slicked back and letting his black hair shine if he even takes off his hat. His eyes are a moon-like yellow, an unnatural thing for most people, no doubt a birth defect. He stands 1.83 meters tall and weighs 80 kilograms. His clothing is a standard high altitude flight suit; a sheep-skin lined coat, over-pants, and boots. His flight jacket is an American one, pinned with a few Flight awards and so on and so forth. And his hat, an officer’s one, is marked with an eagle carrying olive branches.
The car, however, forced to a stop infront of the property Franko had purchased with the money he had saved up over time. It was quaint, timidly me approached it on foot, leaving the car shut and locked behind him. He then ran his fingers down the sleek brown-painted wooden door. It was a sensation he never thought he’d ever feel again. Home, safety, joy was that sensation; and he embraced it fully. But as he did, the pains set in once again. His back arched and he pushed himself again the door, sobbing in pain. It was like a million needles were just pushed into his spine. “God make the pain stop,” he managed to whimper pitifully.
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You know, we've got to do it someday... throw away all the guns and invite all the jokers from the north and the south in here to a cocktail party... last man standing on his feet at the end wins the war. ~ Alan Alda, M*A*S*H |
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Evangeline 'Evie' Delancy
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Joined: May 2008
Gender: Female 
Posts: 3
Karma: 0 | | Re: The First Day Home...
« Reply #1 on May 11, 2008, 9:50am » | |
Evangeline really wasn't one to make house calls, most of the time, only visited soldiers in the hospital, or on their base where they were stationed. But this was a special circumstance. She did things like this every once in a while, when she heard stories of soldiers sent back home from the war due to their wounds, she would go and visit them on occasion - and in this case, as it was with most cases, she wanted to visit them because, after doing her research, she discovered they had been stationed with her brother at one time or another.
Hopefully she'd be able to gather some sort of new information about how her brother was doing - seeing as how she hardly got letters any more from him - she was determined to find out if he was even alive. That thought in itself was a morbid one, but it was a possibility, she wasn't going to deny it.
It didn't take her long to drive to this certain soldiers house, after she had returned from her most recent tour in London, she had sent off as soon as she could to find the man who might be able to inform her of how her brother was doing. She wasn't too used to driving herself places, but she was a decent driver, and she stopped in front of his house, parking the car, and stepping out.
And it seemed she was just in time, too, because she caught sight of the man slumped against the door - and she could tell he was in a lot of pain. All thoughts of her brother were pushed out of her mind as she rushed up the steps to his house, her heels clacking softly against the ground, and finally, she reached the door, quickly trying to help him up. Granted, he was quite a bit bigger than she was, but she was going to try to help him no matter what.
"Are you alright?" She asked, trying to stay as calm as possible as she attempted to wrap one arm around his waist as gently as she could, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to try and pull him up - making sure to not pull to fast or too hard, she wasn't entirely sure where he was hurt, and she certainly didn't want to make him hurt more. She figured it might be the slightest bit odd for him, a woman that he didn't know appearing out of seemingly nowhere to help him - but maybe he had seen one of her performances during the war, he could know who she is! Right now, though, all that mattered was helping him.
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Harper, F. H.
New Member
member is offline
I am not amused, but I am alittle tickled.
Joined: Mar 2008
Gender: Male
Posts: 3
Location: New York
Karma: 0 | | Re: The First Day Home...
« Reply #2 on May 11, 2008, 10:20pm » | |
Franko struggled as she got a hold of him, he then pushed her away, and he was panting heavily, holding his chest, primarily where his heart was. It hurt a lot to him, and to make matters worse someone was grabbing at him. “What? No, no…. Just… Just nerve pain from… Well... Nerve pain.” He then shivered as he opened the door to his bakery and pulled out a wooden chair. “I understand your actions were of noble thoughts, but Doctor Kasey told me that I will have minor seizures and random nerve pains after my crash.” He then sat in the chair, and rested his face in his hand.
It felt erkie from his previous surge of pain, this was an odd one that struck his heart. He didn’t recognize her actually, he only seen a few War Shows, since no one ever sent to North Africa to campaign. “It is nothing to bother with, about six months ago I crashed-landed in El Alamein. I was saved by a few British men… That’s all you need to know, but Doctor Kasey had told me that I was supposed to be in a wheelchair… But I can’t get enough money without a job.”
It was indeed a long tale about what really happened during Operation Lambda, and how he really went down, and who really saved him. But Franko kept it quiet, knowing that no one would believe him. He felt somewhat compelled to just shut the door on her ass, but he felt a greater reason why she was here. So he perked up a bit, “So, is there something I can help you with?” He faked a cheery voice and planted a fake smile on his face.
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You know, we've got to do it someday... throw away all the guns and invite all the jokers from the north and the south in here to a cocktail party... last man standing on his feet at the end wins the war. ~ Alan Alda, M*A*S*H |
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