Delusional

Come on, he pleaded, come on. Behind us, the screams of the dead and dying rang out across the plateau, the smell of gunpowder lingering beneath an unforgiving red sun. He promised me that he wouldn’t get hit, promised me on his soua. I asked him, hadn’t he already promised someone else something on his soua? But he shook his head. Broken, he said, so it’s clear.

That was a big deal. Promising something on your soua. Your soua was your life force, your bond to reality. If your soua got sick, your bond would break, and you’d disappear into the dream realm. People promised things all the time, sure they did. But you could only promise once on your soua, unless you broke the previous one. And then you risked your soua getting sick. But he was still here and not an empty shell, so his bond was still strong.

I didn’t say no. But I didn’t say yes, either. His eyes begged me but I turned away, looked out towards the line of burning trees on the horizon. I heard him get up, saw his sickly pale hand move from the little wall. I heard him limp closer to the battlefield, felt him asking me to watch. But I didn’t look. And I heard his screams as the bullets shredded his diseased flesh. Heard the Red soldiers laugh and the Blue soldiers cry out as his body fell to the ground in a thousand pieces. Heard his bond snap and the faintest whisper of breath as his soua, promise broken, faded away into nothing.

Reviews

[Offline]

It's a sharp, yet suspenseful thriller that doesn't fail to eat away at the excitement like a thousand fleas. I agree with Dini, it could be easily translated into a long poem. Keep up the fantastic work!

[Dini]

Nice! You could also make it into a poem, but it's good like this. It's very dream-like which seems to be your trademark. I like it.