Story Threads

POW WW2

No light penetrated the damp filthy bamboo cage. My starved gut retched at the vile stench left behind by previous occupants, my flesh in spasms against the crawling lice. Beyond the terror, the pain of my infected sores tore cries of anguish from my cracked lips and parched throat. I could feel the rattan ties beginning to dry, cutting through my flesh and sinew. I choked a hopeless sob, no thoughts of glory days. There would be no rescue, no relief. In the putrid dank I longed for delirium and the final darkness that would set me free.

~ ~

Sun Rising in a Sea of Flames

The rising sun shimmered in a sea of flame, the convulsing atmosphere searing, devouring all within its blistering haze. For millennia humans have used fire to hunt and ravenously consume the land. Though, where man’s hungry consumption eviscerates, fire’s devastation regenerates. 

~ ~

Masks

The heavy swish and scuff of his waxed overcoat woke me from a restless slumber. The fire had burnt low, but retained enough of a glow to cast shadows upon the night-hued walls. On the stinking straw covered floor I huddled beneath my worn blanket feigning sleep with a rhythmic wheeze as his ominous cane tapped and scraped, jabbing at huddled bodies, seeking the plagued. From beneath hooded eyelids I gauged the progress of the beaked arbiter of despair, his presence emitting a cloying vapour of clove and camphor.