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The animal carcus fell still congested unit, as a foul stench filled my nose. Covering my face with one hand, i tried to limit the poisonous odour contaminating my lungs. As horrid as the rotting corpse was, it had sharply woken me from my groggy state, as I sat upright watching a torrent of lavae and insects spill from the now rotting meat before me. As the floor filled with crawling creatures, my heart begin to race, begging me to run, all I could do was cower in the corner. Frozen in fear.

Moon Baby

Everything was blurred, my mind lethargic.
I couldn't remember. Walking, collapsing --dying. I thought that, if anything, literally coming back to life would give me insight. That I'd be grateful to be alive. But instead of gratitude all I felt was pain. My skin, my bones, my THOUGHTS hurt as they tried to simultaneously recall and forget what had brought me here. At least they were kind. There were kind-faced nurses with warm hands and doctors with calming voices.
Why on earth couldn't I remember stumbling my way to this place?

When One Hundred Million Died

A stout old woman, sixty or so, squat hunched before me, her shouldered shifted and lowered brow shot up to meet my plea. Beneath her lay a bloodied, whimpering soul. My silence shocked me, staring at this unfortunate, my approaching eyes has not seen.
“Hello. I-I wish to help.” I broke my gaze from the injured below.
A man stood by her side in a uniform of the same shade as all scattered assisting on the field. She tuttered in some unfamiliar and gruff tongue to him, he nodded, taking her place beside the wounded as she turned her attention to me.
I gulped.
The woman pursed her thinned lips. “You..” Her creased brow lowered as if searching for the words. “You..English...Barrette.” She pointed further down the field. “She speak..You.”
“Pardon? How-what can I do.” I stammered.
The woman took my shoulder in a vice like grip. Pulling me down as a wave shoot over the field.
“Shell.” she spoke. Her fearless eyes once again met mine.
She pointed ahead,"Barrette."
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One goes in, two goes out

.The girl's pounding heart gave an ungainly lurch as the soles of her desperate ballet pumps skid on sloppy forest moss.
Her cousin, lightening fast, whipped ahead and out of site.
The stranger with the rifle had moved from the roof in what her frantic mind assured her was fervent and now deadly pursuit.
The girl tasted salty tears running down her own sweaty cheeks, she stopped hands on knees to heave in shaking breath. Mike's knackered Reebox rounded a sharp brick walled corner.
Legs flying, Fannie finally caught up to the boy; half tucked through an aluminium drain.
The boy turned wide eyed and sweaty.
"Fran, follow me."
"Who's there!" A gruff tone bellowed.
Frannie's torso spun in a panicked attempt to locate the source. The search met only with the forest own tall winter pines and ugly metal barb.
Her cousin was gone.
Desperate; the stout girl's fists clenched, she tucked her neck
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