Romance

Squinting against the barrage of light, in the distance I believe I can make out a few moving forms, frames made skinny, elongated against the ricocheting brightness of the reflecting water, I have not binoculars or spotting scopes left but either woud be worse than useless, staring into this already painful light. Are those refugees I see, implicit in the shimmer of shadows against light? They could be soldiers, I suppose; they might even be you, my dear, leading our lieutenant and her men on an unintentional wild-goose-chase, but I think not. It might have been a herd of cattle, up to a few months ago, but most beasts hereabouts have been killed and eaten since, and the few that remain are closely watched and not allowed to wander.

Refugees, then; a pre-echo of the coming front, the very image of the deep, soughing trough before the great wave falls, an in-drawn breath before the scream; a rush of dead cells in these arterial ways, a scramble of dry leaves before the coming storm. Bared and broken trees line their way, the splintered stumps, the pale heart-wood naked to the air; hacked, torn down for camp fires as though by massed gunfire. They stand, grown but broken, in imitation of their fretful mutilators.

Comments

[D. Shite]

is that your new boyfriend?

[eau]

mmmmm, sweaty dirty skinny man with cold eyes and a way with a gun. That's what I call a boyfriend!

[PetalsAndRice]

wow that's some powerful man meat