Day 8: Dry



Everything seem like it’s never be dry. I hate it. It added this kind of depressing element to even the happiest moments. Happy birthday but with a wet special entertainment and wet hats, and wet coats, and sneezes, and coats, and apologies for things out of their control.

I couldn’t avoid it though. i guess that’s the inevitable beauty of it. My socks were scrunched up and soggy and slurping up the water it squashed out with every step. Nonsense. They wanted me to stand ‘round the front of the building in this thin coat and guard the front door. Me alone.

Nothing would be coming in this kind of weather. Nothing really did come…at first. Then the back of the building shook and red clouds and smoke pressed out of the side. I was blown on my back looking at the insides of my eyelids.

“Son of a bitch!” I slid into the mud, thin coat ruined and useless.

I tore off the cloth and stood upright. Everyone was screaming and running, and then another explosion. I had my duty to the front, and i had to trust Danny could handle it inside. Danny? I turned back. There was no way he could—


Standing there in the rain, was a man twice my height. He glared at he building, but spoke kindly to me

“It would be in your best interes-”

He took a step back, my bullet carving past the vest and into his shoulder, red blood bubbling, spitting. I then started running back to get to behind the barricade they’d set up for me.

“ENEMY IN FRONT!” I’m hollering and unstrapping a few grenades off of my hip.

blebeleebelehhehehe i fucking hate this


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