Friday 16 January 2015

The Last Messiah


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Photo Credit: aaron gilson via CC



The Last Messiah



“Peace? You’ll see none, little one.” I murmured.

His wrinkled fingers twitched against my farm callused ones, in what I took for agreement. I studied the smooth unformed face, curious what made this one, above all, special. I saw nothing.

“Wait here. I will radio for further instructions. Stay alert.” Captain Li could never leave without adding additional, unnecessary orders. Arsehole.

With this child’s death, or indoctrination, decades of resistance would end. I could return to my family, far from this desolate place.

I stood, ramrod straight, above the corpse of the last monk who had tried, in vain, to shield their new Dalai Lama.

We had our prize.



109 words

@nickjohns999



 This story was written for David Borrowdale's Micro Bookends Flash Fiction Challenge 1.14

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