Friday, October 10, 2014

"Wake", a story of blood and grief

Iron and salt mingled and washed over his palette, tempting the gag reflex. Inky black swam across his eyes, denying revelation to the burden that pinned him against the earth.

The scent of burning timber and charred meat seemed to cling to his body, hair, and the weight pressing down. Silence surrounded him: no dogs barking, no children bickering - only the immobilizing mass seizing his form.

Oh, Lord, his mind started, I’m dead! This is hell! I’m burning and denied an escape – Oh, Lord, please, no!