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-ma vie, the ruse: part 3-
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"So you're back," Cecil welcomed Robert home. "So proud of you, big brother."
"And you may imagine the..." -- Bob shuddered lightly -- "...'warm, fuzzy feeling' I got hearing you say that." His
voice was icy with sarcasm, as usual, but more tired than always. "How sweet. Think I need a root canal."
Cecil just stared at him with an air of boredom. "Ah, hush up." He then looked away from Bob, and cocked his head
to one side.
"I see you've brought company..."
"What...?" The expression on Bob's face turned to one of puzzlement, then to concern, and once he looked behind
him, to annoyance; for Katherine stood there casually.
"Ta-dah." she simply stated.
"You followed me?!" Bob inquired rather loudly, his hands almost automatically landing on his hips in annoyance.
It was throughout that evening that Bob an
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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