InsaneJournal

Of all the bastard places.
What: Death.
Where: 'Hell'.
When: Now.
Rating: PGR.
Word Count: 306.
Note: Un’beta as usual.

Standing still too long brings death.


Thinking about a bath, alcohol, bed.


(Meta knowledge. Unless your muse knows.)

Burnu was 193 centimeters tall, a brave sort, with a mad look in his eyes and tough appearance. He, like the rest of us took to the place that made no sense at all to anyone. Half the time none of us knew where we were, the maps failed to show the quirks of the area. Steep hills lead to sheer drops. Trails lead to razorbacks. Walls appeared out of nowhere. And no one knew where the enemy lurked in this mad terrain.

‘Hell’ is without doubt madness.

Burnu’s toughness was suited to the madness. I placed him in charge of a section Eothian is in. The section has eight to ten men at any time, and, Burnu managed to do quite well with the small group. Anyone who could bring Eothian’s lack of regard for authority into line was doing very well.

He, Burnu, liked to write and he did so with style. He was scribbling notes when he died.

Eothian and I, were standing right there beside him when they took him. It occured so fast, none of us really quite understood what happened until it was over. Certainly, we heard them coming, however, by the time I managed to grab Burnu away all I had in my grasp was a severed hand, holding a note book. There was blood everywhere and for the first time since arriving in ‘Hell’ it was blood of a friend, not the enemy. Eothian---how I do not know--- managed physically to keep me from charging after them to retrieve the rest of the body.

There was nothing we could do but return to camp. The retreat back to camp was quiet, for once Eothian kept his mouth shut. The funeral was somber and memorable. I do not believe there is anything which will ever make me forget burying a man, who was six foot four, in what amounts to the size of a shoe box.