Tablets of Stone ~ Samual Bak
White letters on a green background:
“Built with donations from The Fairweather Friendship Foundation” said the sign on the wall.
His chin jogging on Asti’s shoulder, Gil watched the school burn. He could feel the monster stirring inside him and he held it down as Asti shushed his moans.
Asti was fierce.
Asti was strong.
Asti carried Gil away from the flames.
Then she stopped, put him down and pushed him behind her.
Feeling the heat from the burning buildings on his back now, he peered around Asti’s shielding hip to see the soldier before them.
The soldier showed his teeth, yellow against his pink gums.
“run” she hissed.
But Gil couldn’t run; not from the soldier; not for Asti; not for anybody - the monster wouldn’t let him.
He clenched his jaw, feeling the gaps in the front of his mouth where his milk-teeth had been; tears caused everything in his view to run like melting blue wax so he closed his eyes and saw only red.
He heard Asti’s gasp.
He opened his eyes and the soldier was gone; where he’d stood the ground was burnt umber and the air smelled purple like when mamma killed the goat.
“Option Six has gone wet,” said the contractor into the mic grafted to his jawbone, “get in there and clean this thing up before all hell breaks loose.”
Gil felt himself lifted once more, but it wasn’t Asti this time; he could see her getting smaller and smaller until everything went black.
“Built with donations from The Fairweather Friendship Foundation” said the sign on the wall.
His chin jogging on Asti’s shoulder, Gil watched the school burn. He could feel the monster stirring inside him and he held it down as Asti shushed his moans.
Asti was fierce.
Asti was strong.
Asti carried Gil away from the flames.
Then she stopped, put him down and pushed him behind her.
Feeling the heat from the burning buildings on his back now, he peered around Asti’s shielding hip to see the soldier before them.
The soldier showed his teeth, yellow against his pink gums.
“run” she hissed.
But Gil couldn’t run; not from the soldier; not for Asti; not for anybody - the monster wouldn’t let him.
He clenched his jaw, feeling the gaps in the front of his mouth where his milk-teeth had been; tears caused everything in his view to run like melting blue wax so he closed his eyes and saw only red.
He heard Asti’s gasp.
He opened his eyes and the soldier was gone; where he’d stood the ground was burnt umber and the air smelled purple like when mamma killed the goat.
“Option Six has gone wet,” said the contractor into the mic grafted to his jawbone, “get in there and clean this thing up before all hell breaks loose.”
Gil felt himself lifted once more, but it wasn’t Asti this time; he could see her getting smaller and smaller until everything went black.
Tales for an attention deficit world
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