SOUTH CAROLINA BREEZE
By Vickie Williams

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The South Carolina breeze, cool and fresh, mists across my face.
Ball gripped, arm raised, eyes locked.
Prepare to throw.
Aim. Release.
The breeze slaps the ball aside.
Short. To the left.

The South Carolina breeze chills my sweaty, trembling hands.
It is not a ball.
It is never just a damn ball.

The drill sergeants’ roar vibrates over the South Carolina breeze.
“Throw the dummy, soldier!  Prepare to throw.”

Twist, pull pin, release.

The South Carolina breeze catches the dummy.
Tossing it up. To the right. Into a canopy of trees.

Then the day of reckoning came.  

The day of truth.  
The day to hold death in my palm.

I stand tall and ready.  
The drill sergeant anchors us behind a protective concrete wall.

He bellows over the South Carolina breeze,
“Remember the rules, soldier, and throw it with your life because if you fail…
we both burn.”

Deep breath.  
Thumb on clip.
Twist.  
Pull the pin.  
Release.

The South Carolina breeze feels suddenly, terrifyingly still.  

The live grenade leaves my hand with no wind gilding it.

It is my wrist.  
My aim.  
My failure.

It hits the dirt, inches past the concrete barrier.

The drill sergeant tackles me, hurling us into the bunker.  
He slams over me.
The blast rips the air apart.  
The ground shatters.  

Choking smoke fills the South Carolina breeze.

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Vickie L. Williams is a playwright from northeast Ohio.  Her plays were staged for readings, workshops, and productions at Cleveland local theatres, in New York, and in Cambridge, Great Britain.  She is a Puffin Foundation and an Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award recipient.  Vickie has earned a B.A. in communications and has contributed works to several anthologies.