Short Story for Bedtime (1st Part-In The Hands Of The Worst Enemies)

Short Story for Bedtime:

Saturday then sunday, Nothing new . Utter boredom. The bee firmly still manuevering around his wounded nose but he was too tired to fight back that stupid insect . Another sad story of many his existence can boast of.

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Lied down on his naked belly and let his dreams cover that stupid foggy place; bombing and yelling were the last whispers he heard . On the front, he saw how bitter war was and how sour the cut- leg of his close comrade. Tears dropped and pain was too canny and overwhelming, it could not be helped! Within those dreams he could remember how zeal he was at his first recruit day . The mud and blood , both covered the used to be shiny uniform .

\” You are a lucky skinny ghost \”

Said his dying friend

They, enemies, finally got their hands on his shoulders when no trigger was pulled out. Lost, alone and stray. Captivated in a warm nasty miserable sandy hut . . The hut was wet from outside but hot in; the only cold thing was his armpit.

To the corner Taleb was thrown! Slaps then came fists, his face became reddish and apparently lifeless. Courage and braveness could not stand what he was going through. Two weeks without sleeping neither resting, a sort of hellish torture . . .

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Short Story for Bedtime

In the early morning, a tall huge monster stands like a pale mountain covering the horizon and blocking the festive rise of the sun, Steps in; slaps twice and treads on the holy neck. His naked back was their funniest joke. They were oddly enjoying the very touch of it. It was normal for a front soldier to be slim and super exhausted so what is it about them laughing every time they chance to look at his back, what on earth is funny? He vehemently ask himself with an air of uneasiness and disturbance .

When the sun takes its place in the beautiful blue foggy sky they get him out for a short devilish picnic. Naked of course and half drowsy, a rope around his already tread neck and seven rounds of joggling and running with continuous barking! Sometimes, Taleb would make them eight as a sort of insistance and so called courage.

The lieutnant in charge has his white chinese chair leeward on the porch; watching and – I dare to suspect – enjoying the scene with much malice. Taleb was lost but his mind was there in every moment and you could tell it is a miraculous thing whence he does smile. For his vicious smile toward his enemies was something!

Short Story For Bedtime

One can say they loved him and even adored him. He was the only war prisoner that smiled while getting beaten constantly and treated with the meanest fashion. His uniform has worn out but that glittering yellow star survived. Apparently, it was his last hope.

When the scene is over, he would be taken back with a rope around the neck to the same spot, the same woody stiff corner. They were generous and one could not help ask why didnt they just get rid of him in the first palce? God only knows .

The naked Taleb tries to urinate but nothing is coming out, shouts and tries again still nothing is coming out. Surely there wasn\’t any water left in his body, no available matterial for waste. A mere pain and suffering in his urinary canal!

From the hole embellishing the accursed hut a pasta plate was landing like a divine bible in its original chaste shape; slowly and slowly. Gratefully, he, Taleb, snatches the dish and swallows the delicious spaghetti. The dish was his closest friend in his dilemma!

Short Story for Bedtime-To Be CONTINUED . . .

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