The Distant Machine

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 07:24:20 -

March 14, 1893. The mud is black. It sucks at my boots with a sound like a dying breath. I am running. My lungs burn. The air tastes of coal smoke and blood. I am a soldier. Or I was. Now I am just meat. The whistle screams. It cuts the sky in half. I dive. The earth takes me. Dust fills my mouth. I cough. I spit. Red. General Halloway stands on the ridge. He is a statue. His coat is white. It...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews