The ceiling rumbles, weary with the weight of desperate men. Their hatred is powerful, focused with such ferocity I wonder if it alone will be enough to tear through the roof of the bunker. They serve a Meshugener’s dream. This war has taught me it’s become harder to separate the mad from the wise. I should be terrified, but how much death can be faced before even the scent of burnt carcasses leaves behind nothing but jadedness? All the terror I’ve left to spare is for my people, huddling in the bunker, relying on me to see them through until the morning. But we will find freedom, we’ll never surrender to the likes of men who would turn us into animals.
Although this is a pop culture blog, I also write fiction in my spare time, and some of it will occasionally find its way onto the website. I’ve decided to do this on encouragement from Lyn over at The Encouraging Scribe. The world is made of stories and I’d like to share a few of mine.