The sight of the bodies, executed neatly and left to rot under a bare cover under the sun roils in her brain. Churns, festering. Executions . . . the strangers are here to kill, to despoil -- and who knows if they will be content with just their kind?
It's all too familiar, this scene, and it sets off an electrical storm inside of her, thoughts racing fast and faster until they scream, arching through her nearly too fast to parse.
She can't remember returning home, but she huddles in the seaside cave she has come to claim for her own, balled and shaking, trying to calm the heaving in her gut.
It's hard to say how many hours she stays there. Or days.
C - Closed to Deon
The sight of the bodies, executed neatly and left to rot under a bare cover under the sun roils in her brain. Churns, festering. Executions . . . the strangers are here to kill, to despoil -- and who knows if they will be content with just their kind?
It's all too familiar, this scene, and it sets off an electrical storm inside of her, thoughts racing fast and faster until they scream, arching through her nearly too fast to parse.
She can't remember returning home, but she huddles in the seaside cave she has come to claim for her own, balled and shaking, trying to calm the heaving in her gut.
It's hard to say how many hours she stays there. Or days.