The Saints Will Eat You(Fiction)

Painting by Ion Andrescu. Public Domain.
Mihai and Eugene are partisans stuck in a hopeless war between two sides. Their experiences as individuals are ubiquitous and evident of the sheer complexities of human nature amid terrible circumstances. This short story, set during the Second World War follows the group of men as they strive to stay alive between two massive armies, coupled with numerous moral accords they make along the way.

He laid his rifle down against the tree, and threw himself against it with all of his weight. Although with a such a force, a normal person might feel pain, the numbness that took over his body as a result of the cold made him oblivious to it. He looked at his breath as it dissipated against the brisk air. If one looked far enough he might see some sort of pattern amid all the trees, yet the green and unwelcoming forest all seemed one and the same. Slowly but surely he took his cap off, from where he took a small hardend piece of bread tucked inside an old newspaper. It was the only food he had left. He did not eat it, rather he only nibbled at it very gently, softening it with his mouth. Nothing could make him forget the hollow pain he felt in his stomach.

To his left, Eugene threw his pack on the ground, and laid exhausted. Sweat could be seen coming down his forehead. The other men followed and also threw their wasted bodies wherever they could. They had been walking for a full day and were wrought with exhaustion. The sound of birds amid the trees followed them everywhere they went, until the songs to which they became accustomed to turned into background noise.

It had been three days since they attacked a small group of German soldiers on one of the roads just outside the forest. They completely obliterated them, but found no real supplies besides a few guns and some ammunition. The convoy was not transporting goods, rather the soldiers themselves were the goods as they were on their way to the Eastern front. The Germans were increasingly desperate. They were trying to push the Russians who had made their way through from the east. They were nearing the borders.

Mihai placed the piece of bread back into the dirty paper and put it in his coat pocket. The pocket itself was full of other trinkets that he found on the way since he joined the group. Months had passed since they had been on the run. A lot of the times they were lost in the grand forests of Romania. Time became something that was only determined by the setting of the sun, and the shivering cold brought on by the dark. It was wholly meaningless. At least for Mihai. After he tucked his bread away safely, he asked Eugene for a cigarette to which he complied. As he lit it there was smoke which rose up in the sky slowly but readily. There was nothing in the cold, only the smoke that dissipated. It was February.

They had been on the run for the past few days after the intercepted a group of “neamtzi” as they all called them, meaning Germans. Some of the had been injured in the shootout that they had gone through. There is no reason to believe other than the fact that they only wanted the supplies that Germans were carrying. Namely the food and ammunition to which at times they obsessed about. Mihai however mostly dreamt of his home, his parents, and the smell of bread rising in their kitchen.

Now, he wore his partisan hat, his leather coat and only preached Marx. Well it’s not like he actually believed in Marx, or Lenin, and certainly not Stalin, but that is what the rest of them did. If someone ever said anything about the Soviets, Eugene would threaten them with his knife. No one ever said a word after he cut one of their ears off. They were the ones that would liberate their country and put an end to the war.

It was usually the silence that got to them after a while. At times they would go hours without speaking, hours without a word in utter silence. When they first got together as part of the resistance, as they called it, they would talk endlessly about where they came from, what they wanted to do, their mothers, their sweethearts. But now no one felt like saying a word to the others, they at times did not acknowledge the existence of the other unless bullets were flying.

“Alright lads get up, the fascists are probably on our tail” shouted Eugene.

He always said that when he wanted everyone to keep moving. He did so hoping to get the men riled up although they all knew quite well that most of the time it was not true. Eugene was their leader. He became their leader after their last one was killed by gangrene. The moment at which they all decided that he was to be his successor was never definite in Mihai’s mind.

They all got up reluctantly and continued their march deeper into the forest. Away from the setting of the sun.

Shots were making their way in-between the trees. Bark completely destroyed by the shattering sound, or even the bullets themselves. The thing about fighting in a forest is that it is difficult at times to see your enemy, or even really know where he is shooting from. The best bet was to simply run away from the bullets if you wanted to live, and run towards them if you wanted to be a forgotten hero. There is no reason as to why any would chose the former, and if they ever did they surely would wind up dead, and rarely remembered.

All eight men were running away with their Karabiner 98’s and MP40’s that they had stolen from dead Germans, along with the dirty nude photographs that they had on them. Bullets were flying all across Mihai’s head. They finally reached a steep incline which they hid behind for cover. One could hear the Germans and some Romanian patrol guards running towards them firing constantly. There was about twenty of them. They had been commissioned to hunt down partisans in this part of the country, and this was their job.

“Hand me the grenades you oaf! Steven hand me the grenades!” shouted Eugene.

Steven quickly looked through his rucksack and found three grenades. He handed them over to Eugene, from where he quickly looked above the incline and saw the German position.

“Once I throw these grenades all at once, I want all of you to use your MP40s to mop them down, do you understand?”

Eugene armed the three grenades and waited a few seconds which seemed like an eternity. He threw all of them, and they all exploded in midair taking out a few of the German soldiers. Once the smoke was still in the air, all eight men began shooting. Some of the Germans took cover behind the trees. After an intense firefight, they were all killed. One of them managed to escape and began to run back, but Eugene ran after him and pushed his dagger into his back.

As per usual all the men went over to every single corpse and made sure that they were dead. They did this by simply stabbing them in the heart, in order to conserve bullets. After they foraged all of the belongings that they needed, some rations, ammunition. They quickly went on their way as if the patrol did not return another would be sent this way to look for them.

Although it was not his, Mihai had the taste of blood in his mouth, from the twenty men who all laid in their own.

They all sat down again to catch their breath after walking around for three days straight, in what Mihai suspected to be circles. Only a day before they came across an old abandoned cabin that had some cans of beans stashed away in a cupboard. But not much else. They spent the night in there, but still did not start a fire to keep warm. There was no reason why anyways as they grew accustomed to the cold of the forest night.

Mihai opened one of the cans slowly using his pocketknife and began to eat away. He felt the disgusting beans fill his stomach but to no avail as to they did not put an end to his hunger. The others did the same.

Then the sound of voices could be heard not 200 yards away from them. They all froze and Eugene got up slowly to have a look, as he used his hand to signal the others to remain still. The sounds of the voices were those of German soldiers out on a patrol. Eugene sat back down and said nothing. He looked at everyone and told them to move slowly behind a tree away from the German soldiers. Each and single one of them found a tree to hide behind. The sound of the silence that permeated through them was mounting a tension that none of them could possible handle anymore.

The sound of the footsteps came ever closer until the German patrol was only a few feet away from the nearest man hiding behind a tree. They were so close that Mihai could smell their breath. Suddenly Eugene jumped out behind his cover with his dagger and pistol, while yelling “Now!”. Before even all of the men could jump on the soldiers, Eugene had already slit a throat, still while covered in blood he began to shoot at two men.

One of the men, his name Steven, was shrouded with lead until left dead, but Mihai managed to shoot the soldier who did it, before he could kill more. They had lost one man, but they had killed the entire patrol. Although the blood could not be seen through the night, its smell could be felt all the way down their throats.

Mihai and Eugene picked his body up and carried him for a few miles before they stopped and decided to bury him at dusk when they could actually see the minutae of their difficult task. No one knew anything about the man, except that he hated the fascists.

The night was cold even in July. The sounds of bark cracking replaced those of birds. Very rarely did they ever start of fire out of fear of being seen by patrols. At times they huddled together to keep warm and not freeze to death. Months ago before they were on the run the group used to have a little cove that was dug out somewhere in the forest. Yet that came to an end after a local informer in a nearby village was captured tortured until he confessed the exact location of their hideout. Luckily, another man had warned them with moments to spare of the German arrival. Since then they have been running across forests and plains, foraging what they could and attacking the Germans and Romanian divisions as often as they could.

Eugene cracked open a can of beans and placed a spoon inside of it. The can went around amid the men each taking a spoonful.

“I know it’s not much comrades, but soon the Russians will be here. Our Soviet comrades will be here and they will bring supplies, and liberate us from these fascists.” he said.

“Why can’t they be here soon enough” said one man. His face ragged and clothes dirty. His coat had patches on it. In fact he mended it using material he ripped from German uniforms.

“Why is it that you always ask that? Who knows that they are going through to break through the German lines? The Americans landed in France, and the Russians are spearheading through the fascists like knife through butter. They will be here. The talk in the towns and villages is that the Germans are losing on both sides. ”

Mihai did not listen to Eugene, for he had hear the same nonsense for far too long. He did not care now who came, Germans, Russians, Americans, all he wanted was for the war to be over, and to be back in his parents’ house. He often thought about them, and how disappointed they were when he had left them to join the partisans.

His father called him a “fool” and to be honest he probably was one, but he did not see it like that at the time. He only saw the end of the fascists and their power over his country. Looking back now he realized that he himself could not do much, not the eight men, and not an army, if it took the Soviets with the largest armed forces in history this long to crush the Germans. He missed his parents dearly. The dinners they had together after working in the fields all day. The time he helped his father build his barn. He often wondered what had happened to them. Wether their corner of the world remained untouched, or wether something had happened to them.

A few weeks later, with autumn on the precipices of the air, and on the verges of the nostrils the men began to run out of food and supplies. Their bodies leaner, and their minds more numb to the things that surrounded them. Each German they came across had very few food supplies, and little ammunition. Sometimes there would be no food, only the clips inside the weapons they were carrying.

After three days without food, Eugene decided to go to a nearby village and ask for some bread from the houses on the outskirts outside of German patrol ranges. At night he took Mihai and went to a farmhouse.

He knocked on the door on the small wooden house, and an old man answered. Behind him some small children were sitting around a fire weeping. It was obvious that the state of them was exasperating but still with courage Eugene asked:

“Sir, could you spare some food for us men? We have gone days without a bite or piece of bread.”

“I cannot. I can barely feed all of these mouths, and my own. There is nothing I can do sorry. Please leave now, please there is nothing I can do.” He shut the door in their faces.

Eugen and Mihai started their trek back to the group.

“Hah, these farmers, they know nothing of the struggle that we endure for their own good, not only to fight against the fascists, but for their future in a socialist paradise. It pains me to say that their lack of education will be the downfall of the socialist ideals.”

“He looked desperate Eugene, did you see those children? They barely had any meat on them. Just let it go, we will find something soon enough.” replied Mihai.

The seven men that were left tried all the villages that they could find along the forest and outside its outskirts, but mostly they were met with the same dire circumstances. The truth is that people did not have enough for themselves, let alone a few partisans.

One day as they were close to a village, they were hiding out in a small ditch by the dirt road. They hear two men walking by conversing in quiet whispers.

“I don’t even know why they try, what can they possibly do against the Germans and Antonescu’s army? They should just give up and stop causing us all this trouble”

“They are hanging three today again, a woman and two men, because they did not confess to helping them out I heard.”

“See what I mean. It’s a waste.”

After the two men passed by, Eugene got up immediately and started walking towards the village behind them.

“Eugene! What are you doing? Have you gone insane? What if someone sees you?”

“I have to see it for myself, you all go back into the forest.”

Mihai signaled the rest to go back while he followed behind Eugene.

“Okay fine but let’s stay off the road, I know a way inside the village through the fields where there is enough corn to cover our approach.”


They made their way to the field and crossed it without issue, until they made it to the village. They could hear a German soldier reciting gibberish in the square, where the entire village was forced to amalgamate and watch three people hang for supposed treason, which of course was not in any way specified or proven.

There was one young man, and older one with grey hair, and young blonde woman. Her hair was let loose from her scarf as she struggled to escape from the rope that held her arms behind her back. The look on her face shot pain in Mihai’s heart.

After the German soldier finished his speech, the nooses were placed over their necks, and then they were all hoisted up to suffocate slowly. The Germans sometimes did this rather than letting them drop, as this method would allow for a slow, excruciating, and humiliating death. Eugene turned around and left the crowd, and started walking through the field. Mihai slowly behind him.

“These pigs kill for no reason. It’s funny no one has helped us in weeks and now these three innocents are paying the price of fascist brutality. When the Russians get here they will learn their lessons.” he said under his breath, but just loud enough for Mihai to hear.

They both walked in silence until they found their group back in the forest, although they did not utter one word it is probable that they were still not thinking the same things. Eugene felt the need for vengeance, Mihai felt the need for rest. There was no reason why their thoughts could not cross sometimes, but now it was not so.

What was this war but a certain thing that none of them had any control over, there was nothing but a loss of control. They all had no say in anything but the trigger that they would have to pull, or the knife they would have to thrust not at the direct command of anyone, but their own need for peace. It was their want for peace that they killed so mercilessly.

A few days later at the outskirts of a the forest a few miles from the village they had been near they heard the terrifying sounds of women. Their screams could be heard from miles away, but there was nothing but the sounds of hell that permeated through the entire forest. They all got closer to the sounds and the image became completely ingrained in Mihai’s mind. Three soldiers stood guard as a few others were hitting a group of villagers, women and men, not far away a group of small children were huddled together crying while another man had his carabine pointed at their heads

“The animals, the animals, look at what they are doing, the filthy swine” whispered Eugene. He suddenly took Mihai’s rifle, got up and shot the man pointing his weapon at the children. The bullet went straight through the side of his head and he fell down. At that moment Eugene screamed wildly, the veins on his face were about to burst. All them men jumped over their hiding place and ran towards the soldiers. Eugene took his knife and put it straight through the first men he could get to. Mihai took his sidearm and shot the man in the stomach, when he fell down and did not die he began to hit him with it until his face became indescribable. They reached for their weapons, the other men caught them by the arm.

As they held on to them, the only left alive, Eugene’s face covered in blood, eyes exploding, the look of a madman who had lost all sense of emotion, all sense of logic and reason, and the only thing that consumed him was full hatred, but not as an emotion, rather as the meaning of purpose itself. He goes up to one of the men, and without saying a word hits him in the mouth with his forehead.

None of them spoke of what Eugene did to those men.There are things which they do not speak of and cannot speak of. The days went by slowly and drudged on endlessly. Sometimes they would find enough food to get by, others they would go without eating for a few days. They were all much leaner, but at least the cold was gone.

Throughout the war Mihai could feel his bones protrude from his body, but now it is as they were most of his body. His cheeks, along with the others were becoming increasingly hollow, and the pain in his stomach became continuously unbearable. Although they had to keep moving to stay way from German patrols they did so at a very slow pace. Their feet gave out, which meant that they had to take more breaks, far more often.

Eugene and Mihai tried to talk to villagers and try to get some food to keep them going, but no one would comply to their needs, and most of the time they were rebuffed with oblivious tones, many of which sounded like a lack of appreciation to the efforts they are expending on the behalf of the villagers and their freedom from the German hordes. Increasingly tensions mounted with each passing day. Eugene’s eyes gave out and the lack of hope permeated through them clearly. Some men tried to eat mushrooms in the forest only to find themselves sick hours later.

Rage of imperceptible character began to take hold of each of the men, like a shadow and cold, not too different from the forest which they had inhabited for months. Hunger was slowly devouring their physical bodies, but also their hearts that grew heavy not just because of the weakness, but the war which seemed to have no end in sight. Every foot through the soft forest ground was another step closer to exhaustion, always trying to avoid patrols and aimlessly going in circles, in a maze with no particular pattern. The sweat on the bodies, despite the smell, was pleasant amid the heavy gear they were forced to wear.

One day they came upon a small farm just outside the forest, the sound of chickens guided them. The house was made out of mud, with a wooden roof, was small and just outside it was a long coop with what seemed like endless chicken. A small part of the world which was not yet touched by the hand of violence. Eugene at first wanted to go over to the door and ask for some food, or maybe a couple of chickens, or eggs but decided that it probably would not work.

“Go and ask them, maybe they will give us something” one of them said, while holding his cap clumsily in his hands.

“No there is really no point, we will just wait until night”

When darkness fell over the forrest, Eugene slowly went up towards the hut, climbed over its fence and hurt his hand in the process. He tiptoed, to the sound of the crickets that seemed to fill the darkness around him until he got to the coop. Inside, an elderly couple, a man and woman, old enough to have seen the first unification of the country go by, were having dinner. Eugene put his hand inside the coop and caught two chickens, but made such a racket that he rabbled the entire farm. He fell backwards as he tripped over a rock, with two chickens, one in each hand. He got up and ran towards the fence. He jumped over it masterfully, almost forgetting his exhaustion, fueled by the desire to finally eat something of substance. At that moment the old man came out of his hut, made aware of his presence by the overzealous sounds coming forth from the farm, he aimed his rifle at Eugene and shot.

His arm was hit and he fell down on his face. The old man screamed:

“Who is that, I know I hit you, come out!” as he shot into the air. He walked down the stairs and found himself stumbling, with the old lady just huddled behind him.

Mihai’s breath, along with the others hastened, with each step the old man took his heartbeat fastened, and his sweat poured down his neck. Eugene could not move from the pain, but he tried to crawl towards the forest. The old man walked slowly with his rifle pointed towards the dark, and the old lady with a light behind him.

“Hey, I see you, stop!” he shouted.

He pointed his rifle towards Eugene, and pressed the trigger. The sound of the bullet hitting his chest was formless, and the very next moment he was on his knees. Mihai stood by Eugene with his gun still pointed at the old man who was on the ground covered in his own blood. The smoke from Mihai’s gun was still in the air when the others ran towards the hut. Their search for food made them ravenous, and beyond any reason. They went through the door they began to ravage any piece of bread, and the soups that were still steaming on the table. The old lady was by the coop, hiding, until she screamed and ran towards her husband.

“What have you done? You bandits, you murders! You killed him!”

One of the men, still chewing on a piece of bread came out of the hut and put his hand over the woman’s mouth, and said:

“Please be quiet, shut up, quiet woman!”

“You killed him, please leave me alone! You murderers!”

Mihai, still standing by Eugene was in shock, as two other men were trying to silence the woman, and calm her down. He looked down and he saw Eugene bleeding. He helped him up with some hesitation and said:

“What are we going to do?”

Eugene said nothing, got up slowly and made a sign towards the house. They both started trekking towards the entrance, passing the old woman who was still on the ground next to her husband. Her tears, meant nothing to the men, who tried to ignore he as they walked by.

“What should we do about her, chief?”

“Bring her inside the house, and try to calm her down”

Eugene sat down by the fire inside the one room house. Inside, pottery hung from the ceiling, the fire crackled and permeated a smell of burning wood but also a warmth that the men had not felt in a while. The other two soldiers brought the wailing woman inside, and pulled a seat for her next to the fire.

Eugene looked at her wearily and said:

“You have to understand… We were only looking for some food, and now this happened. He should have not shot towards me, he should have not pulled his rifle out like that”

The woman sat by the fire with her eyes towards the ground. Mihai with his back turned towards them had nothing to say, his thoughts not clear, but numb from what he had just done. The others were at the table eating whatever they could find. Eugene looked at them with piercing eyes, signalling them to calm their demeanor, regardless of their unwelcome invasion of the couple’s provisions. The woman, small and with a colourful headcover remained silent, almost in a catatonic state.

“We have been going from county to county, always throught the forest, trying to dodge the Romanian and Germans armies, the ones who have taken your country away from you. The time is now and the Red army will be here soon… Antonescu will forever be gone, washed away as a stain from a cloth.” said Eugene while trying to console the woman.

“You murderers, you are the same as Antonescu, and the same as the Germans, and like any of the bandits that roam the country now.” she answered with a slight tremble in her voice.

Eugene angered by the woman’s comments, looked away into the fire, with the pain of his wound still very much alive, he tried to subside his feelings and said nothing. The silence was hardening for them all. The difficulty lay in the imperceptible nature of their circumstances. There was nothing to say, or do, although both Eugene and Mihai wished to.

Eugene broke the silence and said slowly:

“We have not been in contact with what is happening on the front, or in the country for weeks, do you know anything?”

The woman refrained from looking at him. Trembling yet still conscious of her surroundings, her body shivered from the disbelief that took over her heart with a force that could not be stopped. The fire crackled slowly and without any real reason. There was no real point to even try to move her body, but she got up slowly and moved towards the bed where she sat.

“He said the Soviets entered the country a few days ago, you bandits, you murderers.” she screamed.

Eugene turned towards Mihai. They both said nothing at the news they just heard. The men who were smoking at the table after they had just finished devouring whatever they could find, remained mute, and also stared at Eugene.

Two days later the entire group was on a road inside a truck they had stolen from an abandoned outpost by the forest. Perturbed by the fact that all of their meandering for the past few years could finally be over, all the men in the back sat in silence. Mihai and Eugene in the front, with Mihai behind the wheel. Along the road vasts amount of people, some seemed to be soldiers, some villagers, and some looked like prisoners of were all heading west. Mihai could not keep his eyes off the long stretches of exhausted faces. After years of hiding he had not seen so many people, and now he grew tired of the dread that he encountered with each mile that they headed east. Still, he could not get the sight of the smoke and the old man falling to the ground after he had shot him. He had killed many fascists, but he certainly had never killed anyone innocent- even if he tried to kill them. Everytime he replayed the scene in his head, his heart raced, and he hit the pedal with all his strength.

The Romanian countryside remained just as beautiful as he remembered it in his youth, yet not it was stained with the remnants of war, and the perhaps more importantly those of death. The truck was heading towards the front where the final vestiges of the Romanian and German armies were trying to fight the massive invasion force of the Soviet beast. Eugene would finally see his dream materialize before him, as his belief that the freedom of the country lay in the liberation of the Red Army. Once he heard the old woman tell them that there was talk that the Russians had crossed the borders and were nearing Jassy, he rounded everyone up and traversed the forest where they found the truck. The disarray allowed them to pass unquestioned and unperturbed. The final task now lay in them joining the massive forces of Stalin’s army which would liberate the Romanian people from its fascist government. For years they had all waited to join the group that would give them more than just their freedom, but more importantly a chance at retribution. With each kilometre that drew them nearer to the front, Eugene became more excitable, his tense body, relaxed at the thought that he would no longer feel helpless, and that he would no longer just sit by and watch. He would no longer be a bystander.

The sky was red, from the sunset that hit the long valley and the rolling yellow hills. The sound of a battle, reached their ears; machine gun fire, tanks, and at times bombs being dropped over vast areas. The sound of artillery in the distance was the signal that they were not just close to the front, but they might in fact had reached its heart. Past the road, long columns of soldiers were running past them, many in cars and trucks retreating in the opposite direction.

“Drive faster we are almost there!”

They reached a collection of villages, in many of which fighting was still ongoing, but they decided to enter one which seemed to be surrounded by Red army tanks and army. Eugene unpacked a large red flag from his backpack and hung it from the side of the truck, from his window. They drove into the village, and got out of the truck. Suddenly, they were surrounded by soldiers, with what seemed hundreds of rifles pointed at them.

“Stop! Put your arms in the air, who are you? Stop! I said Stop!”

“Comrades! Comrades! We fight for the liberation for Romania, and its working people!” shouted Eugene while holding up the red flag.

A few soldiers ran up to them, and began beating them. The soldiers started shooting, as a part of Eugene’s group hit the ground. Mihai managed to run behind the truck and just off into a small garden by a house, along with two others. Eugene on the ground with a rifle pointed at his head, and in a state of shock shouted in Russian:

“Comrades! We fight with you! We are partisans, we fight the fascists!”

An officer went up to him and caught him by the collar, and lifted him up.

“You fight with us? This country has no partisans. We’ve seen your lies, and what you’ve done in Ukraine. You lie! You fascist pig! String him up!”

A fist hit his head, and then another, until one of them placed a noose around his neck, threw the rope across a branch of an oak tree, and tied it to the truck in which the group arrived. He got in the truck and suddenly he moved just enough to hoist Eugene into the air. He began to struggle for air. The others that survived the first wave of shots, were forced back up on their feet, placed in a line a shot. On the ground Eugene saw his red flag, which he had brought with him, slowly the enveloping feeling of darkness took hold of his breath, and he let go.

“Died like a good comrade didn’t he?” said the officer, while the rest laughed. “Okay boys, if you see any more shoot them on sight. Now this village is ours!”

The Soviet soldiers scattered across the entire village, breaking in doors, shooting and looting uncontrollably. They brought people outside and shot them, while holding bottles of in one hand. A man was dragged outside while pleading for his life and was shot, while a few soldiers went inside the house, each with bottles in their hands. Death descended on each house, as soldiers ransacked and killed mercilessly.

Mihai and the two others ran in opposite directions. He made his way down through an empty house, where he hid for a little while until the door was broken down and three soldiers came through. He hid in a stock cupboard, while they were looking through the house. They found some watches and took them, but left immediately once they realized no one had lived there for a while. Mihai left the cupboard and went around in through the back.There were dead bodies piled up on the street, and blood flowing alongside them.

At one moment he panicked, as he realized that there was no one left. As Eugene was hanging from the tree, he ran back toward the courtyard that was now empty except for the dead bodies of his comrades. He picked up a few grenades and some ammunition, and ran back towards the side of another house. Inside, horrific sounds were emanating, but he could not see anything. He realized quickly that the unthinkable was happening, and now again he remained alone to deal with it. It was clear to him that he would most likely perish, but there was nothing left to do but to give his life, or to give it away. He placed his finger on the trigger, ran through the front door and inside saw what he feared the most. He shot all of the men, until they all lay on the ground dead. Sweat ran from his forehead, as adrenaline rushed through his body. His thoughts slowly could not reform. He almost did not know where he was, as blood soaked the floor

The sting was fast and sudden The pain that reverberated through his body paralyzed him. He felt like what seemed a prick in his lower back, but soon felt like a knife that went in all the way. Someone had stabbed him, and turned the blade. He felt the warm blood against his clothes, but still the thumbs of his attacker against them. He felt the blade turn continously.

He fell to his knees. The darkening feelings emanating off his chest, and eyes becoming one. The numbness took over his body, but the pain was there amid each cold breath he took. He fell down, with his eyes still open in a sea of counsiconsenss dripping away, but drowning, still holding on to the vestiges of something that remained inside of him but also something fleeting. He felt the taste of blood in his mouth, the blur taking over his eyes, whiteness, and darkness in tandem interminably taking over his sight. Suddenly the taste of blood turned into stale bread. The sound of trees in the breeze, and the quiet of the forest surrounded him. He succumbed to the weight of his own body, and closed his eyes. He could feel the wind make its way through the branches of the trees to his skin. Brisk yet still warm, the feeling it produced calmed him.

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