3. Skyway Robbery - Genesis 18:32
03-19-2020, 03:09 PM
Orkan stares at the melee before him. The blood spraying through air, smoke and fire so thick his eyes water. What is this life, he thinks to himself. We throw our bodies and our souls into a furnace, mere ants scrabbling on the bodies of giants, fighting over crumbs. A man dies and who will mourn him? He turns his head, seeking a shred of blue sky, something to give him hope, to show him the world has meaning. But everywhere he turns, the screams of the wounded haunt him, their hands bloody as they try and shove their own intestines back into their torn bellies, sliding across the slick deck. Even the dead cannot find rest, their faces frozen in grimaces of pain and terror. He can smell the stink of cooked flesh, clogging his nostrils, caking his lungs, and he knows that the blame rests solely on his bruised shoulders. Yet what else can a man do, he wonders, but struggle to push the boulder. This is the absurd. One action repeated, or changed, the uncaring universe does not change.
He spits, his mouth suddenly dry. He can feel the smooth guardrail of the Espegiel, gripped between his hands, warm and smooth as skin. He looks up, gazing once more into the abyss, as he opens up his tortured throat and screams.
[Buzz goes the bird man.]
He spits, his mouth suddenly dry. He can feel the smooth guardrail of the Espegiel, gripped between his hands, warm and smooth as skin. He looks up, gazing once more into the abyss, as he opens up his tortured throat and screams.
[Buzz goes the bird man.]
