x3rx05istyx9s
Unlucky Member
(closed between myself and
wicketpyt
)
The sun shined beautifully over the hills of the vast farmland as Carter Shaw stared out the window of the bus that was bringing him to his new home. He had struggled with his nightmares and liquor problems long enough; it was time for change. This ranch held promising potential to help him sleep at night, which he hasn’t done since he was discharged from the 138th Infantry Regiment in August, 1944 for being mentally unstable. His mind was clouded with memories from storming the western front, and he even had a few hallucinations from time to time. In the 3 years since he had been discharged, he had been trying to escape these by diving into a cold glass of whiskey, but all it did was make him numb and angry. The war in Germany and Italy was over, but the war in his mind seemed to rage on night and day.
Carter enlisted when he was 18, following in the footsteps of his father who had served in the first World War. He was raised in Nashville, Tennessee where he was put to work at the age of 15 as a farmhand. Working with his hands and getting dirty was a part of his life, what better way to put those good ol’ country boy skills to use than joining the army, right? That was what he thought, until he was in the middle of the sea in a metal death trap, heading towards the heavily fortified beaches of Normandy; high caliber machine gun rounds whizzing over the head of him and his new friends. Then the door to the boat went down. No cover. No defense. All Carter saw was red mist and bodies dropping before his luitenant shoved him over the edge of the boat into the water. It was at that moment he realized that he wasn’t built for the army. He should’ve stayed in Tennessee.
The memories of that day and the battles that followed now plagued his mind, and he hasn’t slept solid in 3 years because of it.
The ranch, he had heard, was a different sort of rehabilitation; put people to work, give them some friends, and help them back on their feet. It interested Carter and he figured he had nothing to lose, so here he was, stepping off the bus in front of a nice rancher-style house. His goal was simple: spend some time on the farm like he did when he was a kid, get sober for good, and go home. Taking a look around, though, he debated whether or not he really wanted to do this. He saw some folks who may have come from the military just like him, and he also saw other things he didn’t really expect; some junkies, some kids, and some folks who just didn’t look like they belonged in a rehab facility. But he shrugged it off, figuring he was probably just a bit too judgmental. “I’m already here.” he thought to himself as he headed inside the ranch house, where a line of people were waiting to sign in. Once it was his turn, the woman at the desk gave him a warm smile. “Hi, there. Name?”
“Uh, Shaw- Carter Shaw.”
The woman ruffled through some papers before nodding. “Ummm, yep, I’ve gotcha right here. And you’re checking in for… PTSD, correct?”
“Uh, Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright, and it says you’re taking no meds, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m not a big fan of medicines.”
“Well that’s good to hear because neither are we. You’re gonna be assigned to room 24, second floor. You’ve got a few roommates, so get aquianted. Tomorrow’s Monday, so you’ll have work to do then. If you need any clothes or anything, let us know and we’ll get you some okay? Take care.” The woman gave him another warm smile.
“Thanks, you do the same.” He wandered around looking for the stairs, and then for room 24. He walked in and dropped his bags near an empty bed and sat down, letting out a quiet sigh.
After putting his clothes in an empty drawer, he decided to learn his surroundings, so he got up, went outside, and started to walk through the fields, seeing what kind of work he’d be doing and who he’d be doing it with. He saw a sign that said “Free Strawberry Picking! Grab a basket and a snack!” Not remembering the last time he had fresh fruit in his system, he headed towards the sign, a slight smile on his face. The field was huge, and plenty of the people who he could only assume would be working the field with him were plucking fresh, ripe berries off of the bushes. “Maybe this ain’t so bad.” he thought as he grabbed a basket and started walking through the bushes.
(picture of my character for reference
wicketpyt
)The sun shined beautifully over the hills of the vast farmland as Carter Shaw stared out the window of the bus that was bringing him to his new home. He had struggled with his nightmares and liquor problems long enough; it was time for change. This ranch held promising potential to help him sleep at night, which he hasn’t done since he was discharged from the 138th Infantry Regiment in August, 1944 for being mentally unstable. His mind was clouded with memories from storming the western front, and he even had a few hallucinations from time to time. In the 3 years since he had been discharged, he had been trying to escape these by diving into a cold glass of whiskey, but all it did was make him numb and angry. The war in Germany and Italy was over, but the war in his mind seemed to rage on night and day.
Carter enlisted when he was 18, following in the footsteps of his father who had served in the first World War. He was raised in Nashville, Tennessee where he was put to work at the age of 15 as a farmhand. Working with his hands and getting dirty was a part of his life, what better way to put those good ol’ country boy skills to use than joining the army, right? That was what he thought, until he was in the middle of the sea in a metal death trap, heading towards the heavily fortified beaches of Normandy; high caliber machine gun rounds whizzing over the head of him and his new friends. Then the door to the boat went down. No cover. No defense. All Carter saw was red mist and bodies dropping before his luitenant shoved him over the edge of the boat into the water. It was at that moment he realized that he wasn’t built for the army. He should’ve stayed in Tennessee.
The memories of that day and the battles that followed now plagued his mind, and he hasn’t slept solid in 3 years because of it.
The ranch, he had heard, was a different sort of rehabilitation; put people to work, give them some friends, and help them back on their feet. It interested Carter and he figured he had nothing to lose, so here he was, stepping off the bus in front of a nice rancher-style house. His goal was simple: spend some time on the farm like he did when he was a kid, get sober for good, and go home. Taking a look around, though, he debated whether or not he really wanted to do this. He saw some folks who may have come from the military just like him, and he also saw other things he didn’t really expect; some junkies, some kids, and some folks who just didn’t look like they belonged in a rehab facility. But he shrugged it off, figuring he was probably just a bit too judgmental. “I’m already here.” he thought to himself as he headed inside the ranch house, where a line of people were waiting to sign in. Once it was his turn, the woman at the desk gave him a warm smile. “Hi, there. Name?”
“Uh, Shaw- Carter Shaw.”
The woman ruffled through some papers before nodding. “Ummm, yep, I’ve gotcha right here. And you’re checking in for… PTSD, correct?”
“Uh, Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright, and it says you’re taking no meds, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m not a big fan of medicines.”
“Well that’s good to hear because neither are we. You’re gonna be assigned to room 24, second floor. You’ve got a few roommates, so get aquianted. Tomorrow’s Monday, so you’ll have work to do then. If you need any clothes or anything, let us know and we’ll get you some okay? Take care.” The woman gave him another warm smile.
“Thanks, you do the same.” He wandered around looking for the stairs, and then for room 24. He walked in and dropped his bags near an empty bed and sat down, letting out a quiet sigh.
After putting his clothes in an empty drawer, he decided to learn his surroundings, so he got up, went outside, and started to walk through the fields, seeing what kind of work he’d be doing and who he’d be doing it with. He saw a sign that said “Free Strawberry Picking! Grab a basket and a snack!” Not remembering the last time he had fresh fruit in his system, he headed towards the sign, a slight smile on his face. The field was huge, and plenty of the people who he could only assume would be working the field with him were plucking fresh, ripe berries off of the bushes. “Maybe this ain’t so bad.” he thought as he grabbed a basket and started walking through the bushes.
(picture of my character for reference
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