At the shadow of the shadow

I’ve always wanted to know how my death would be, how painfull it would be? What would happen after i die?, the pain… would it fade away for real?, would i be missed for anyone?, would tears run for me?, death is impartial and righteous againts the life way to be, that’s what the old folk said arround here, rich people, poor people, medics, gravediggers, in the end, everybody falls on their knees at her feet, that’s the reason for me to wonder, how would it happen and not if it will actualy happen… If   i knew that it would be like this, i would never born  since outset.

what a fkng sun man

with my fkng camera

After a 13 ferocious hours of  battle, in a biting and savage attack that claimed dozens of casualties since the start, i took advantage of the first beam used by the dawn to cut down the darkness and  break this hollow silence that suffocate the fortress, to runaway, as i ran from the military bastion that all my división refuse to leave at the mercy of our enemy, the sound of the war simphony fade away with the wind, this severe concert unleashed hell in the middle of this surrealist moorland, there are not trails or rivers that allow the access to the fortress; since the begining i knew we should not to be here, not in vane those who built those walls left this place forgot in the jungle decades ago for any reason; none of us knew what the hell we were doing here since the 6 months we were living at the base besides of  restoring the edifications and defending the damn place with tooth and nail. The shape of the estructure gave me an idea about when this thing was built, and if i was right about the constructions date, it suposed that that kind of architecture wasn’t meant to be here on that period of time; the culture who was related with the architecture of this Stone monster would not but arrive to the continent 150 years after, this acording to the style on the constrution.

If I see my self  running today, it is not because of cowardice, let’s better say it is for need, since our arrival, we are being unable to engage any kind of comunication with the rest of the world,  the birds that brought us here are dead and none electronic devices works out. In 6 months non other life form diferent to vegetable has made presence, not a birdsong or even the annoying sound of crickets as company… nada, in 182 days, we didn’t cross our  our path with a single soul, untill yesterday at 13:00 hours

LT“ shhhhhhhhhhhhh; what was it?”.

CPTN_” what was what?”

LT_”can you hear it?… between the trees”

CPTN_”is there somebody outside the walls?”

LT_  “not that i know”

CPTN “is anybody there?… this are military facilities of the national army, show yourself or we’ll open fire!”.

suddenly, whistling from the trees, flying Swift without warning an arrow  got jammed the captain’s war helmet inbetween the main cittadella tower, and what it left of my commandant officer’s head… what I did next was a little bit obvious.


Crp_ “against who sr?!”

LT_ “against anything outside this fkng walls!”

The bewilderment was absolute at the fortress, there were not apparent guilty or targets to shoot at, the recon squad gave no noticed of anomalies, tracks, not even broken branchs. Back in the base headquarters, all the officers and subofficers start a search for inteligence about what just recently happend and the specifics of our presence at this dead end. The suprise, nobody remembers more than the landing momento of our arrival at the clear ground inside this walls full with grass, looking for leads in the captains personal efects , we only could found paper half burned with handwrite words, a letter directed to his wife all covered with his own blood, and a military intel repo, that show the attack plan for a military operation of a mission occurred  more than a year ago; The Antares Portal.

“wait a minute, that was my last assignment” , that was the general voices speaking at the main dining room where the council had place.

A dry sound called every ones attention, it was the captain’s war helmet with the captain’s head recently cutted that fell in the center of the big table where all of us were sitted at, splashing every thing arround with a dark color blood followed by an smoke puff; standing by the door room an average tall men  dressed with camouflage and apron  leaped with blood, shown his face barely lighted by the soft light of his cigarette.


Made by:

 Edgar Fabian Gil Amado

The sight behind the dark

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