I'm thinking of picking up an old drabble I started back in the day but stopped because I forgot about it!
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He dreamt of them last night. Cold and staring. Accusing him and yet forgiving him. He didn't know which made his stomach turn.
He did not often dream of them--he did not often think of them, in truth, although he knew they had what he considered a 'following' amongst the people, Russian and not. There were other people and other things and other pasts and futures to be thought of, and his mind as of late was constantly turning.
But when he did think of them, the thoughts were unwelcome, like his dream. He did not think of the daughters flitting about in white dresses and hats, giggling at (then polite, then respectful) soldiers and dancing on the deck of a yacht. He thought of them as they must have been that night--pale and screaming and then bloody and... well, bullets and bayonets had a tendency to disfigure one's face.
Re: Wip thread
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He dreamt of them last night. Cold and staring. Accusing him and yet forgiving him. He didn't know which made his stomach turn.
He did not often dream of them--he did not often think of them, in truth, although he knew they had what he considered a 'following' amongst the people, Russian and not. There were other people and other things and other pasts and futures to be thought of, and his mind as of late was constantly turning.
But when he did think of them, the thoughts were unwelcome, like his dream. He did not think of the daughters flitting about in white dresses and hats, giggling at (then polite, then respectful) soldiers and dancing on the deck of a yacht. He thought of them as they must have been that night--pale and screaming and then bloody and... well, bullets and bayonets had a tendency to disfigure one's face.