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120_minutenTitle: Don't dwell on it
Challenge: (Neu)Anfang, oder so
Genre: The Pacific
Character: Eugene
Wörter: 413
Warnung: Angst, Kriegshandlungen werden erwähnt
Kommentar/Disclaimer: Ich bin mir relativ sicher, dass der echte Eugene Sledge das niemals gemacht hat, ich will mir auch nicht anmaßen, dass es auch nur annähernd am echten Eugene Sledge dran ist. Dies basiert auf dem Character, den Joe Mazzello in The Pacific portraitiert hat. Ich verdiene damit kein Geld.
es wäre womöglich sehr nützlich, vor dem durchlesen, diese Szene hier zu gucken, weil mein Geschreibsel darauf folgt. Alles auf Englisch. oh und spoileriger Hinweis: Eugene's bruder hat nach dem Krieg in einer Bank gearbeitet.
He rushes past people, bumping into them in his anger, and he knows it’s not good form, but why should he care. They just don’t know. He just doesn’t care.
An elderly man calls after him, calls him rascal, unruly, rude, something with an ‘r’ in it. “Fuck you,” is how Eugene answers him. Several women grasp their chests in shock. Half the street stopped and looks at him. “Now here, young man, mind your language,” says the man, but then he sees Eugene’s eyes and remembers a time, long ago enough to have been nearly forgotten, and can’t imagine how much worse it would have been for this young boy in this long war, so he casts his eyes down and asks whether he can be of any further assistant to the woman whose defense he has now given up.
An officer noticed the commotion and is now making his way over towards Eugene, a stern look on his face. His anger surges up again and Eugene wants to say: “All I did was what I was told to do, god damn it” but instead he turns and runs; people move out of his way, all eyes on him, but the officer doesn’t follow.
He runs until he reaches the outer bounds of the town where the road leads to woods and marshlands and a few houses here and there; too big for the town, too majestic, too rich, protected under the shades of old trees and old money from old customs. Protected and old. Protected. He did more than he was told to do.
He survived. He helped others to not survive. The latter he was mostly supposed to do, the first – he is not so sure about that.
He takes off his suit jacket, takes it in both hands. The sound it makes against the tree is not satisfying, nothing’s breaking, nothing’s falling apart and yet he keeps swinging it against the tree. From one uniform into the other. It’s all pointless. What’s the point? He lets fall the jacket and hits the tree instead, pounding his fist against the bark, kicking against it. Anything. He screams. And stops.
The pain in his hands and feet is soothing. It feels like he’s making up for something that should have happened. Instead he came home without anything.
Nothing to show for.
And it will all have to be kept locked up.
You can’t dwell on any of it. The Skipper’s words.
Eugene brushes down his jacket, puts it back on, but doesn’t button it up. Don’t dwell on it. Don’t question it. Just get on. Just do – something. Except working in a bank.
Challenge: (Neu)Anfang, oder so
Genre: The Pacific
Character: Eugene
Wörter: 413
Warnung: Angst, Kriegshandlungen werden erwähnt
Kommentar/Disclaimer: Ich bin mir relativ sicher, dass der echte Eugene Sledge das niemals gemacht hat, ich will mir auch nicht anmaßen, dass es auch nur annähernd am echten Eugene Sledge dran ist. Dies basiert auf dem Character, den Joe Mazzello in The Pacific portraitiert hat. Ich verdiene damit kein Geld.
es wäre womöglich sehr nützlich, vor dem durchlesen, diese Szene hier zu gucken, weil mein Geschreibsel darauf folgt. Alles auf Englisch. oh und spoileriger Hinweis: Eugene's bruder hat nach dem Krieg in einer Bank gearbeitet.
He rushes past people, bumping into them in his anger, and he knows it’s not good form, but why should he care. They just don’t know. He just doesn’t care.
An elderly man calls after him, calls him rascal, unruly, rude, something with an ‘r’ in it. “Fuck you,” is how Eugene answers him. Several women grasp their chests in shock. Half the street stopped and looks at him. “Now here, young man, mind your language,” says the man, but then he sees Eugene’s eyes and remembers a time, long ago enough to have been nearly forgotten, and can’t imagine how much worse it would have been for this young boy in this long war, so he casts his eyes down and asks whether he can be of any further assistant to the woman whose defense he has now given up.
An officer noticed the commotion and is now making his way over towards Eugene, a stern look on his face. His anger surges up again and Eugene wants to say: “All I did was what I was told to do, god damn it” but instead he turns and runs; people move out of his way, all eyes on him, but the officer doesn’t follow.
He runs until he reaches the outer bounds of the town where the road leads to woods and marshlands and a few houses here and there; too big for the town, too majestic, too rich, protected under the shades of old trees and old money from old customs. Protected and old. Protected. He did more than he was told to do.
He survived. He helped others to not survive. The latter he was mostly supposed to do, the first – he is not so sure about that.
He takes off his suit jacket, takes it in both hands. The sound it makes against the tree is not satisfying, nothing’s breaking, nothing’s falling apart and yet he keeps swinging it against the tree. From one uniform into the other. It’s all pointless. What’s the point? He lets fall the jacket and hits the tree instead, pounding his fist against the bark, kicking against it. Anything. He screams. And stops.
The pain in his hands and feet is soothing. It feels like he’s making up for something that should have happened. Instead he came home without anything.
Nothing to show for.
And it will all have to be kept locked up.
You can’t dwell on any of it. The Skipper’s words.
Eugene brushes down his jacket, puts it back on, but doesn’t button it up. Don’t dwell on it. Don’t question it. Just get on. Just do – something. Except working in a bank.
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no subject
Date: 2011-02-26 11:23 pm (UTC)Hab die Szene vorher gesehen.
Es ist wirklich schmerzhaft. Und schön geschrieben. Die ganze Hoffnungslosigkeit und wie toll es wäre, das einfach ignorieren zu können ...
no subject
Date: 2019-01-08 08:26 pm (UTC)