Author Archives
Mike P.
New Fiction: Their Deformed Ideology
I stand over the FNP soldier, gun pointed at his head.
The sky is dark, the field a landscape of muddy trenches. The only remaining hint of living vegetation lies some three hundred yards away, a sketchy dark outline against the ring of mountains beyond. Bright muzzle flashes pop in and out of existence across the field like a swarm of fireflies. It smells of metal, ozone, and death.
Rain streams down my gloved hands, across the matte black of my gun barrel. Droplets form and slide one-by-one down the muzzle like marching soldiers, collecting into one large drop at the tip that falls…and is quickly lost in the dozens streaming from the sky to spatter my enemy’s face. His sickly eyes squint up at me from underneath thick greenish folds, like a zombie, or an alien.
Hard to believe he’s one of my fellow countrymen.
