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Wolf Cry: Chapter 1: Part 1Legs aching, heart pounding and breath coming in shorts pants Sam ran in the middle of the field, blades of grass slapping her face and stinginig her fire blue eyes. Tears flowed down her face causing her sight to go blurry. Quickly, she shook her head, making the tears fly from her face and hit the ground making darker spoltches. Right next to her Leo was keeping pace with her, teeth cringed and a scared look in his eyes. Spit dabbed is bottom lip and Sam could tell he didn't really care that it was there, that or he didn't notice.
"Come on, Leo!" she begged him. "Just a bit farther!"
Leo glanced at her and gave her a weak smile. "Easy for you to say, Sam! Your leg isn't screwed up now is it? You go ahead and jump a fence and get your leg cut and then try to run for a long period of time," he growled. Sam gave him a apologetic look and wished she had kept her mouth shut.
Sam and Leo had jumped a fence together but it was Leo who had misjudged the jump and got his leg cut on the barbed
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
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