Everything was still and quiet
on the cold shore;
the waves singing a requiem
beneath the whispers of the wind.
Only the colonel was there:
hope, joy, and remembrance,
in those green eyes.
“Please, do not leave me,” murmured the man,
in front of his mind the soft smile of a beloved woman.
The Colonel, as he liked to be called, looked sternly down his nose at me. I felt like I had disappointed him beyond belief.
I can’t believe that you snuck out last night to be with that boy, his voice boomed at me. I am going to nail your window shut. Do you know how much shame you have brought on not only this family but yourself?
“Colonel!” they said, springing apart and raising their arms in a snappy salute. “We didn’t know you were coming, ma’am,”
“At east, Sergeant,” I said cooky. “I’m here to see Lieutenant Kelton; I was told she’d be here,”
“Yes, ma’am,” the one said. “She just left the mess, ma’am; headed for the showers, I think. I, er, we could show you where,”
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, sergeant. I remember the way,”
It’s pronounced kernel. No, it isn’t. it says c o l o n e l. That would be col o nel. You idiot. You are in high school and you can’t even read! Don’t even pretend to be my brother.
Everyone has the moment where the encounter the word on the page and regard it with the same bewildered apprehension that one would greet a new species – what IS this? And why isn’t there an “R”?
When I was in high school, my favorite dessert to buy in the cafeteria was Colonel Crunch: vanilla and chocolate ice cream bars covered in a cookie crunch. My favorite. Haven’t had one in awhile, but I miss them, and I need to make a point to eat one soon.
Another glass rolled down the slippery surface of the bar, spilling errant splashes of the strongest whiskey they offered on their way to the old man with the short, short haircut, and the empty, sad eyes. It was like he never left the place, always sitting in the fourth stool from the left, staring off into one of the bottles’ elaborate pictures of the jungle. His eyes moved back and forth, following his internal scene’s shouts coming from either side. “Colonel, it’s safe over here!” “Colonel, NO, RUN!” “Run over here!” His face occasionally sank as he took the final swig of his glass, the explosion ringing in his ears bothering no one else in the place but himself, the visions haunting no one else.
colonel it sounds like it means army,marine its makes me think about how they have to say goodbye to there friends and relatives.
colonel its sounds like a group of things its somehow reminds me of family like a tribe its reminds me of the army.
colonel: colon, noel, leon, cool, one, loon, coon, lone, clone, loco
Everything was still and quiet
on the cold shore;
the waves singing a requiem
beneath the whispers of the wind.
Only the colonel was there:
hope, joy, and remembrance,
in those green eyes.
“Please, do not leave me,” murmured the man,
in front of his mind the soft smile of a beloved woman.
you trusted me with your back,
i trusted you with mine.
you were only supposed to shoot me
if i was out of line.
but power corrupts and power enslaves,
who knew you’d be the one
i didn’t get to save
The Colonel, as he liked to be called, looked sternly down his nose at me. I felt like I had disappointed him beyond belief.
I can’t believe that you snuck out last night to be with that boy, his voice boomed at me. I am going to nail your window shut. Do you know how much shame you have brought on not only this family but yourself?
“Colonel!” they said, springing apart and raising their arms in a snappy salute. “We didn’t know you were coming, ma’am,”
“At east, Sergeant,” I said cooky. “I’m here to see Lieutenant Kelton; I was told she’d be here,”
“Yes, ma’am,” the one said. “She just left the mess, ma’am; headed for the showers, I think. I, er, we could show you where,”
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, sergeant. I remember the way,”
A military rank. Higher in rank than most. Army thinking. Inflexible. In charge of a brigade.
It’s pronounced kernel. No, it isn’t. it says c o l o n e l. That would be col o nel. You idiot. You are in high school and you can’t even read! Don’t even pretend to be my brother.
Colonel Brande was a very stern man. He loved his family but was never able to show it out to them.
“Colonial?”
Everyone has the moment where the encounter the word on the page and regard it with the same bewildered apprehension that one would greet a new species – what IS this? And why isn’t there an “R”?
When I was in high school, my favorite dessert to buy in the cafeteria was Colonel Crunch: vanilla and chocolate ice cream bars covered in a cookie crunch. My favorite. Haven’t had one in awhile, but I miss them, and I need to make a point to eat one soon.
“But who is he?”
“He’s just himself.”
“Come on, a man like that, he must have known command, leadership. Colonel, general, admiral, boss, mayor, king, come on, what?”
“He has no title. None who he leads know that he leads. That is why he is so effective.”
Another glass rolled down the slippery surface of the bar, spilling errant splashes of the strongest whiskey they offered on their way to the old man with the short, short haircut, and the empty, sad eyes. It was like he never left the place, always sitting in the fourth stool from the left, staring off into one of the bottles’ elaborate pictures of the jungle. His eyes moved back and forth, following his internal scene’s shouts coming from either side. “Colonel, it’s safe over here!” “Colonel, NO, RUN!” “Run over here!” His face occasionally sank as he took the final swig of his glass, the explosion ringing in his ears bothering no one else in the place but himself, the visions haunting no one else.