Untitled Tryptich

Sold through ARTSHARKS ARTHouse

A grenade sliced through the sky. It illuminated the burned-skinned trees, the stone-eyed mountains, the rebel soldiers’ faces that were drained of blood as they saw more clearly the horrors of the night.

“Get down you idiot! Get down!”

He launched himself on his brother’s back, brought him crashing to the ground. The two tumbled behind the rocks, the ragged hedge of stones, a jigsaw trench wall that snaked along the steep side of the mountain like so many others. A hissing volley of bullets whizzed where their heads had been seconds ago. Gunfire spattered angrily above their ears and sought out their flesh.

“Don’t you see we’re outnumbered?” He yelled above the roar of the guns and shook his brother’s shoulder with his free hand. The boy’s shock-wide eyes shone like twin blue moons, their glow eerie within the miasma of his smoke-smudged face. “Opening fire from up here, you fool? After they sounded the retreat? What are you thinking?”

The boy’s teeth began to chatter and he could not reply. Perhaps nothing was his answer, for he couldn’t recall thinking anything. Indeed, he could not recall anything at the moment but the image of oncoming soldiers what seemed a moment ago. The enemy uniforms treading along the rim of the ravine right below them.

Soldiers who had, like the rest of their kind, invaded their country through Bulgaria, who had overtaken Macedonia and were now sweeping through all of Epiros, wiping all soldiers and civilians in their path.

Red bursts of gunfire transformed night into day—a bizarre red-tinted day, for only an instant. Initially there were only two—but they were scouts, the scrawny head of a whole bulky platoon. A platoon that marched on in search of another village to rampage. A platoon close enough to hear the hidden men open fire on the two soldiers. A platoon which was now dead set on killing them.

“Angreek87″