Mr. Unger had his back turned when a student’s physics book crashed to the floor.
Whipping around, he threw himself on the ground.
As he rose moments later with wet eyes, an onlooking wall poster offered a silent explanation:
“Freedom isn’t free.”
Mr. Unger had his back turned when a student’s physics book crashed to the floor.
Whipping around, he threw himself on the ground.
As he rose moments later with wet eyes, an onlooking wall poster offered a silent explanation:
“Freedom isn’t free.”
writeamuck 
whoa. powerful.
i’ve worked very closely in caring for trauma survivors and this piece hits close to home. thanks for sharing this.
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I can’t imagine what a tough job that must be. Kudos to you.
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That one took my breath away.
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Thanks.
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It’s difficult to imagine the horror of war can ever be removed from the psyche. You’ve reminded us of the ongoing battle after the soldiers come home.
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Agreed. Thanks for reading.
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This was powerful. Well written and sad but true.
God bless you,
Cheryl
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Thank you, Cheryl.
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I love that kicked-in-the-gut feeling. You evoke it so well!
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Thank you.
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I love how you say so much by hardly saying anything! That’s a gift. Makes you think of war, a soldier’s instinct, fear of death.. all in one go.
Shailaja/The Moving Quill
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Thank you, Shailaja. I appreciate that.
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Love the title and the last line!
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Thank you.
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A powerful & evocative story. So well done in just 42 words.
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Thank you, Mike! That means a lot.
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Brilliantly vivid and to the point. Nice!
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Thanks so much.
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Wow. The crash…and the reverberation. Spare and powerful.
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Thank you, Jennifer.
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Uh huh. There’s someone who paid the price for freedom. I’d buy him a beer.
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You got that right!!
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This reminds me of the first time I ever drove with a veteran. He was a good friend of mine, and he had recently come back from Iraq, maybe a month before; he had spent 4 years there by that point. I was at the wheel, he in the passenger seat, when we came up on something in the road. It was nothing more than a piece of foam, but he yelled, “Look out!” and grabbed the steering wheel, swerving to avoid the foam. Later on he explained that he thought it was an IED, as he had seen one too many tanks run over those things in the Iraqi sand.
Your piece hits home, both for those who have experienced that kind of sudden terror and for those who can empathize second-hand. Nicely done.
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What a terrible burden to bear. Thank you for sharing your story.
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I liked how you created such powerful feelings in such a short story.
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Thank you, Marcy!
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okay this was awesome. wowski. Seriously!
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Thanks so much, Jen!
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The sound of terror. Great understory. I’ve had recent experience with books falling to the floor – it’s always unsettling to say the least. Physics book – forget it!
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Thank you!
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So much of the story is ‘told’ here through allusion. As a result, you’ve accomplished a complete and deep story in so few words.
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Thank you so much.
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I read this as a teacher afraid of school shootings. The freedom to bear arms comes at a cost. The soldier aspect never occurred to me. But either way, it was evocative and sonorous!
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I hadn’t thought of that. But agreed, a cost there too. Thanks for reading!
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Freedom isn’t free, indeed. Profound take on the prompt. And so well written.
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Thank you, Meg!
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Wow, very nice. Mr. Unger has a great burden to bear.
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