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The soldier’s heart didn’t beat. In fact, it hasn’t had the familiar thrum of blood flow for at least seventy years.
His heart was a crypt filled with cobwebs; there was no need for it now. But there the soldier stood, looking out across the field of the Manor House, a flock of sheep trundling along as the sheepdog barked in the distance.
Yes, the soldier’s heart didn’t beat. His lungs didn’t fill with air after every inhale. He didn’t drink and he certainly didn’t eat (very unfortunately so as he did enjoy a nice chocolate biscuit while he was alive). But even in death, the stillness of the early winter morning made everything clear - a chance to freeze for a moment. Though, he supposed he had unlimited moments now.
The sky was bleak and cloudy, yet a few rays of sunlight weaseled through the gaps and caught on the branches of the old willow tree, dancing with shifts in the leaves. Behind the soldier stood a Manor House, tall and solitary much like a monarch of sorts. Ivy clawed its way up the dark brick, consuming windows and doors alike.
The current owners of the house - god bless their souls - were a nice pair. In a strange turn of events, the soldier - or more accurately, the Captain - loved them to bits. Granted, the Captain had never quite been so relieved to see new faces but the pair were sweet together.
Alison and Mike were a truly unique pair. It was evident, even to someone who lacks any sort of romantic experience, that the two were made for each other. Smiles blazing as soon as they made eye contact, gentle touches on the small of a back whilst passing in the corridor, retreating to the basement in the dead of night to restart the router.
Yes, the couple was perfect. Well, as perfect as a relationship could be.
The Captain tried to remember a time when he had someone like that for him. He tried. Oh yes, he tried.
The Captain had long since given up on death, much like how he gave up on life. There wasn’t an awful lot of things to do once you are stuck in the same place for the last seventy years. Take a walk through the garden. Crawl through the boxes in the attic. Sit at the bottom of the pond and instead of feeling the icy chill of the murky depths, just feel an all-consuming numbness in your already empty chest.
Somedays, that was all he could do.
But other days, he could sit with the others and trade stories and share dreams. He could feel the warmth spread to his chest by basking in the sun’s loving touch. But then again - this is Britain. There wasn’t a lot of sun to go around.
So there the Captain stood, watching the gold peek behind the grey clouds. Watching the grass ripple with every glacial breeze. Watching the world pass him by as his non-beating heart broke.
(I miss you, Havers)
What he wouldn't give for a second chance.