The sun stands alone. Shivering in a cloudless sky.

A sound, first a rustle in the thick brush.


Then a Sound.

The sound is a storm on legs.


This wave, this dark storm, crashes into my sight.

Crashes into my life. It sweeps through, closes in.



I run.

I turn and run.


I run towards where the purest of blue sky is kissing the dry soil, in the distance. Where they never meet, me longing to be where I know I can’t be.


To this I run.


I don’t look back, I have seen the storm. I know its faces. I feel it close in…closer and closer.


Now I hear
over the blast of silence
over my breathing
over the piercing beat in my chest


I hear its feet as they crush dead grass. Coming over me, It swarms me.


My legs are aflame. My feet feel heavy as stone. This will be the last time they feel anything.

The storm divides into five.

The storm circles me with I in its eye.


The bite from the back of a bayonet to the back of my head. I crash into the barren soil.

I roll onto my back as shadows cover me. The blue sky stares as the sun screams with its blinding light.


The faces of the dark storm are now all I see as they stare down at me. This is the last thing I will ever remember seeing.

This is what I will see for the rest of my life, in darkness.


Each part of the storm rains down on my body. Pain dances over me.

When they come to rest each part of the storm is sitting on one of my limbs with the last sitting on my chest facing me.


His eyes sound like thunder.

His eyes are the last I see, as he takes mine.


His knife disappears into my skull’s eye sockets….into an explosion of light and pain.

I see nothing but red….then black.


Then nothing.




Visiting old memories, I came across this. A piece I wrote years ago, a response and reaction to a article about violence in Sudan. This was to be the start of a novel I someday hope to start

…hope to finish