[Ah, the ghost stories, which Jack has discovered are fare more likely to be sad than scary. He sets his glass down with a sigh, looking into it.]
When I was in the military, and the war was still going on, my squad was ambushed. Everyone was killed but me, and only because the enemy recognized me. Maybe they planned to get information, or a ransom. Maybe they hoped to make an example out of me.
[He looks up, meeting the other man's eyes.]
It's true, you know? Most dying men do call out for their mothers. But I heard one calling out his wife's name. We had served together since boot camp, so I recognized his voice and the name that matched up to a pretty young brunette whose pictures he'd shown me.
Most of the men sounded afraid, some in agony, but he sounded excited. Happy. I thought it was that last surge of adrenaline, a white light, whatever it is that's supposed to make dying more palatable. His hands were reaching up to the heavens, and there was a necklace dangling from his fingers. [His voice becomes soft and far off.] I remember the way that the light caught it, and thinking that it must've been something she gave him before he shipped out.
When I didn't die, and I returned to Shiloh, I made it one of my first orders of business to pay a visit, offer my condolences to his widow.
[Jack leans forward, because here's where the circle comes forward.]
Instead, I found her mother at the door. And when I asked to speak to the young woman, she told me that she had passed away years before. I didn't believe her, and so she showed me the program from her daughter's funeral, and a picture of her lying in her coffin...wearing the very necklace that I saw in my friend's hand.
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When I was in the military, and the war was still going on, my squad was ambushed. Everyone was killed but me, and only because the enemy recognized me. Maybe they planned to get information, or a ransom. Maybe they hoped to make an example out of me.
[He looks up, meeting the other man's eyes.]
It's true, you know? Most dying men do call out for their mothers. But I heard one calling out his wife's name. We had served together since boot camp, so I recognized his voice and the name that matched up to a pretty young brunette whose pictures he'd shown me.
Most of the men sounded afraid, some in agony, but he sounded excited. Happy. I thought it was that last surge of adrenaline, a white light, whatever it is that's supposed to make dying more palatable. His hands were reaching up to the heavens, and there was a necklace dangling from his fingers. [His voice becomes soft and far off.] I remember the way that the light caught it, and thinking that it must've been something she gave him before he shipped out.
When I didn't die, and I returned to Shiloh, I made it one of my first orders of business to pay a visit, offer my condolences to his widow.
[Jack leans forward, because here's where the circle comes forward.]
Instead, I found her mother at the door. And when I asked to speak to the young woman, she told me that she had passed away years before. I didn't believe her, and so she showed me the program from her daughter's funeral, and a picture of her lying in her coffin...wearing the very necklace that I saw in my friend's hand.