PROSE
Mateusz Antczak
‘Good. We should spread our forces here and here’, said the President, marking relevant places with a felt-tip pen. ‘We don’t know what they want, so we need to secure all the exits from the city. It seems that one of their battalions is heading in our direction’. ‘Yes, they will pass by Banquet at night and head towards other towns.’ ‘So we cannot hope that further scouts will reach us here’, stated the President. ‘One more thing: why the hell doesn’t anybody else apart from you report to me? Next time, I want it straight from the horse’s mouth’, he added angrily. The Major nodded but said nothing.
*** Gwalbert could not sleep even though it was already the third night since it had all begun. He wondered if his family was safe. So far, they had not received any information from the place where they were evacuated. He checked his watch, which had been chosen specifically for the violently interrupted party. ‘It’s three’, he murmured. Suddenly, his ponderings were interrupted by a disturbing rustle and quiet scraping. He strained his ears, catching every now and then a crunch of the gravel masking Bankiet. Mrówecki wondered what those sounds meant. Foltyn would probably say that these were the fucking shrimps. It might as well be a mouse or a stronger gust of wind. And if it is a surviving soldier or civilian?
Mega*Zine Lost&Found #25/2019
Animation | RE-animation