My Last Battle

The look on my face told a story she was not a part of, and she shook her head and looked at me as if I had lost my mind. I recovered quickly as the sensations passed. She quietly suggested we take a detour and follow a different path into the shade of the woods to get out of the growing heat. I agreed and we took a natural looking path into the woods. Turns out weird was there too. We were following what had been an old roadbed where Confederate soldiers and supplies made their way toward high ground and onto the battlefield. Chalk it up to imagination again, but I heard horses snorting and straining against the jangle of tackle and the squeak of leather harnesses. No voices, just straining horses and hooves pulling cannon, caisson, and supplies of war. I stopped and turned to my wife and said, “So I guess you aren’t hearing any of this either.”

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