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Wound’s Room: A Narrative Fiction

Roland’s glass door swing open, the man walks through is the very epitome of authority with his gun hanging idly at his hip, the party guest reflected in his over-large sunglasses. Everyone seems not to notice, they are not scared. What can he do? Arrest them all for underage drinking. Maybe if a soldier walked in, people would start talking. One of the other officers dressed in blue cuts down the girl she still hangs lifeless for all to see. “Dear friends lend me your ear for a moment. Take a pause from your music and listen to the tale of the dead girl. Let her be cursed, let her rot, she was not the good this world needs.

She manipulated her way here, to this party full of life. We do not know much of her demise but only the wind is left. She fell in love tonight, with that prince she has been watching. She has been watching him for quite some time. We all know the war would have taken her away, only leaving the silence. But now as the violin plays, we forget her. She was so young, but would have gone anyways. ” Theo reaches Genevieve body, and faces his audience with his glass raised. “Here is to the dead girl, the world will no longer miss her, and he pauses for dramatic effect, “Her prince is finally free. ”

In together the audience says, “To the goner” and then continue their festivities. Tonight the legends are created, in these hallowed halls. Every one of them is trying to be remember or live the longest. No one really knows what they are fighting for, because in time they will all die. But it is when and how that truly matter. “She is dead, and you think all is fine, all is dandy!?! ” Peter screams at Theo. Theo has not cared about the girl that everyone can see, but of the dream that only he can see. Because the truth is, what does not kill him never makes him stronger, it just fucks him up.

So Theo responds in the best way, “Ah, scholarship boy. You will learn soon enough. ” “I can’t believe you, you low life,” Peter mutters but Captain James stops him quickly, “Son, watch your tone,” He is the police man that walked in, and saw the chaotic mess filled with no cares. He, the police can be honest, courageous, corrupt, devious, malicious, altruistic, cunning or stupid all wrapped in one. “Oh, scholarship boy, if it is not daddy trying to save you,” Theo says. Peter will pose a problem, he thinks. He is not like the rest, little sheep, all in their little pins, all ready to give their wool when the time comes.

No questions asked, no judgment given. All think that he is the best source of truth this world has. Because at the end they know who he chooses are not Greats at all. But Peter has the audacity to question everything. “Boy, I still am a cop, and you are just a boy,” Captain James says sternly. “I hope I am not being rude, but you are playing the wrong game, sir,” Theo laughs. His cocky side comes out, it shines in his eyes. Amelia would roll her eyes now, she never liked this side, but he has so many sides. Roland walks up behind the Captain James, and bends down and picks up the class ring, he is admiring it. Is there a problem gentleman? ”

“None,” the Captain says. He dislikes the parties, the Greats. But Roland continues, in perfect beat, “I will ask you to wrap this up quickly; there is a party to be enjoyed. We would all like to forget the past as soon as possible. ” Roland expected everything to go back to the way it was. Eat, drink and be merry. It is not a hard concept, but the police are still standing around, unaware of the party. “Scholarship boy, if I were you I would leave with the goner,” Theo says like a cold venomous snake. He is so charming and so beautiful it’s so hard to see the coldness.

Theo can talk, whisper in ears, but there is a charm about the forbid intertwined in his soul that makes him much more dangerous. Peter drops his head, disappointed in the actions taken tonight, and walks with the stretcher, covering the beautiful girls face. Someone would have though she was beautiful. “Is this what I have become? Comparing me to a dead Christian girl. ” Roland and Theo stay, as everyone wanders off board from the lack of excitement in their drunken haze. “I think you forgot something, prince,” Roland scoffs as he hands Theo the ring. What prince? Taught him to be charming, not sincere.

He is this prince of Darkness, always loving to play with the dark magic of the night. All he wants is power. In a second Theo responds, “It is not mine. ” … The cave entrance was so small she almost missed it. Its cave mouth of impenetrable blackness. The stars shine in, glowing on the sleeping people. Soraya lays in an old hammock, near at the entrance of the cave. The moon pours down on her, showering her with beams of light. The moonbeams alight each dark curl with passion. Her skin illuminates like the stars; she looked deathly pale, like she could join the stars in an hour.

Her heart would stop any moment, but the stars know the truth, that it beats away inside her, like a constant drum of passion. August is more fragile than the glass ballerina that sits on my dresser at home. And it is not because he is not tough, he is the toughest six year old in the war. It’s hard to get his attention under his brown hair that dominates his narrow face. His minds lives in the fairytales everyone tells him. Fighting dragons, saving princess, surviving the war. He touches Soraya’s shoulder and she almost jump away from him. There wasn’t anyone behind her even a while ago, everyone is asleep.

August clearly crying, starts “There are monsters under my bed, can you make them go away! ” Soraya takes his little hand. They are small but hard. Sometimes she forgets that August is six, he has grown up so quickly. It is such a tragedy, to have your childhood ripped away. “Let’s go and see. ” “And Ethan is not here! ” August cries. Ethan is August’s older brother, the last little bit of family he has. Lately he has been watching the dust swirl around in the star light. Everything about him was wrong. He still looked tall and handsome, but broken. Ethan had lost the traces of boyhood, no one would ever remember him, not the old him.

His eyes are still clear, but empty. He wears a black leather jacket with jeans all ragged from the war, “He is probably being scared to death because of an animal,” Soraya responds, she knows she is scared. She watched the vultures circle around all afternoon, and the army will sends then dogs soon. “I am scared,” August says as he crawls back into his make-shift bed. “We all are,” she whispers as she tucks him in. Her heart used to beat so fast, she could feel it in her bones. The adrenalin flew over his veins like a carp through the river, but now she has probably run out of it.

Now she has lost any sense of how long she’d been there, stopped spending each second eternally praying that the army would not find them. She has learned how to cope with the fear. And then see looks at August, scared kid grown up too early. All he can say is “I want my family back,” this time tears fall from his eyes, she has never see him actually cry. All she can say is “I know kid…’ Soraya tucks him in and stays with him until he falls asleep. “The monsters of the war will not get you. I will not let them. I have a gun and they only have scary claws. And you have me and Ethan and the rest of your new family.

We care about you so much. ” … The prison cell was barely six feet by four. The walls are a thick grey stone. It fit into the sad faith of the war, prisoners wish they died on the battle field instead of being locked in one of these rooms. The summer air was a relief as it alleviated the stench of decaying sewage and rotting flesh. Peter sits in the small cell, with the door wide open. He is drink a soda and eating a bag of chips. He crumples up the soda and throws it against the wall. “Peter James, Peter James, that name is fitting. ” Peter says to the walls. He has been blaming society for everything, but the truth is he is society.

He is the reason he needs a new table, a new life. He will be the reason why he cannot fit in, or fits in too well. “It is fitting for the change and the study. It is fitting for the war and for my new life. ” For this life is grand, buying shit no one needs, with money no one has, to impress people no one likes. “This time is crucial. I will not live with distractions. I will live loveless. Not even Cupids bullets will hit me. I must give up my Rose; she is but my past and maybe my future once I save this world. ” Spoken like a true Lucentio. Peter walks out leaving his old id card on the bench. He now has a fancy suit and fancy dreams.

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