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Happy Valley

A story about disturbing the dead

It was growing light in a tiny valley a few miles from the Demilitarized Zone. This valley was the closest thing I had seen to a cemetery in Korea. Happy mounds encircled me on three sides and there was a misty, sacred feel to the place. It seems odd to call a grave a "happy mound," and a valley of graves a "happy valley," but they do. It was also a firing range.

As we were unloading our M203A2 Grenade Launchers, I looked down into the deep swamp and saw the silhouette of a man gliding through the trees. His form was squared off toward me.

“Go away. The blood of Jesus is against you,” I said. I saw the shadow recede, but not with the attitude of one fleeing or agreeing, just leaving.

I don’t know if I believe in demons or ghosts. I know I see them. Maybe I just feel so awful about exploding grenades in a cemetery that I haunt myself. Maybe I did disturb the dead. Either way, I apologize. I am sorry.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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