26 August 2009

Anglave Suggested I Write... This Is Modred

Grenade! I scramble wildly trying to move away but all I manage to do is kick it around a bit before it went off. "Great," I think, "I survive Kalisz and Warsaw just to get bumped off by some New American fanatic's home-made hand grenade..."



I had not expected to have another thought, but... The ruined building appeared much the same, but it was more like the old half timber buildings like in Poland than the farm houses in the Allegheny mountains. Even the air was subtly wrong, the burnt plastic smell that was in the air since '97 was missing.

I crawled over to a crack in the wall and peered out. The small courtyard looked more like Europe and was definitely not the back yard of the farm I we had taken cover in.

The light shining through the crack was not from the sun, but rather from a very tall, very beautiful person dressed all in white. White robes and bird's wings, like an angel. Had NA started using LSD grenades or something?

It was talking to some...thing. It was as ugly as the "angel" was beautiful. It held something that looked like it was made out of old wire coat hangers and tin-foil. There was something hanging in the mess of bent wire that was pointing straight at me. The angel looked down the pointer and then into my eyes...

Love! I love Him and must obey. Do whatever He commands! Wait! Why do I feel this way? I shook my head, and the love fades suddenly and my thoughts returned to my command.

Sighing, the angel points into the ruined building I am hiding in and orders the "thing" to do something. It unslings a rifle...

I don't wait. I run...

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