[ CW ] Begin your story with `` They should have sent a poet . ''

I wrote this when this prompt was first posted. It's a little weird so I've been putting off posting it but hey, here goes. This is Reddit so I'm sure there's weirder about. 
 
 They should have sent a poet. 
 
 …That was my first thought when I arrived on the scene. I ’ d been in the SAS for just under a week. I ’ d undergone training so rigorous that I thought I ’ d never survive. I ’ d learned things and prepared so thoroughly that I thought I was invincible. I just…wasn ’ t prepared for the beauty. 
 The earth was scorched beyond recognition for as far as I could see a dusty grey landscape sprinkled with the charred bones of the innocent dead. I wasn ’ t prepared to like it. I wasn ’ t prepared to feel the warmth of that iridescent glow on my skin, the residual energy from the blast. I wasn ’ t prepared to look upon the faces…the skulls of the dead and feel affection well up inside me. I picked one up and wiped the ash away with my sleeve and just looked at it. I looked it in the eye. It was a woman, I could tell somehow. She had been rotund and kindly, her eyes, when they were in their place, twinkled in the right light. She liked to bake. Of course she did. Women around a certain age in certain unassuming villages had little else to do. I sat down with her and spoke to her. 
 
 ‘ It ’ s okay, ’ I thought, ‘ everyone else is gone. It ’ s just you and me now ’ 
 
 She didn ’ t answer. Of course she didn ’ t. She wasn ’ t comfortable around me yet. That was okay. I would find a way to make her comfortable. That night I slept on a pile of bones. It was quite uncomfortable but it seemed the only respectful thing to do. 
 
 I woke in the middle of the night to find a bulge in my trousers. I thought it might be a rat that had crawled into my trousers but it wasn ’ t moving. Maybe a bone had lodged itself there while I slept. I touched it. It felt good. I pulled down my trousers to find that it wasn ’ t a bone at all, or rather, not someone else ’ s. I looked at it then I looked at the skull that had slept at my side. The woman hadn ’ t been the most attractive but her charm was homely and when I looked at her I smelt the far off smell of freshly baked bread. 
 
 I lowered her down to my crotch. I can ’ t quite explain it but it felt right. I was about to slip it in the eye socket when suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, I felt a violent convulsion in my belly. It hurt like nothing I ’ d ever felt before but thankfully it only lasted for a moment. During this convulsion I dropped the dear skull. It rolled down the pile of bones that I had slept on. I got to my feet and tried to run after it but I tripped on my trousers, which were still around my ankles and I rolled after it, head first. I pursued it all the way to the bottom but when I got there I couldn ’ t find it. I clawed my way through the bones until I found her again and with a smile. She looked a little different but it was probably her, once again lowered her to my crotch. Then came another convulsion, more violent and longer lasting than the first, it sent me to my knees. I dropped my dear skull and vomited on the ground. I opened my eyes to see the vomit was, in fact, blood. 
 
 Suddenly my head was clear. The radiation from the blast had poisoned my mind. I had been made into a subhuman thing. I knew I didn ’ t have much longer. Soon the poison would take over again. 
 
 But before it did I would do what I wanted to do. I lowered the skull to my crotch, and died with a smile on my face.
