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BLOG NUMBER FORTY-SIX: Anna and Danny and Andy and Dana…




The narrowing of hours as times arrow flies …




Endangered Guerrillas by Steven Holding.


The jungles edge. Camouflaged shadows emerge, slicing through foliage, then the silent sleeping village.

Uniform in their barbarity, a split-seconds repose stretches forever before chaos is unleashed from the treeline. Flamethrowers light the night. Grenades explain the situation in stereo, screaming this is a slaughter.

Ranks of gas-masked figures, flanked by stacked-up dead kids, flung into hastily dug pits.

Beneath a mountain of limbs, an eye opens, despite being blinded by the press of ruined flesh. She can see an escape. For days, family blood sustains her as she eats her way out.

A first taste of flesh. A thirst for revenge. She’s hungrier than ever.





Disgust Discussed by Steven Holding.


Old hand held; unflinching gaze affects attention the exact same way. Words elude, lucidity lost, so just listen.

“My secret, sweetheart... Love was a disguise… I hid how much I despised you…”

Last breath, subtracted, their beauty the cause. Fingers to face, palm on mouth.

Cold lips kiss skin: eyes closed infinitely.





That is all. Over and out.

 

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