Part 1: setting the scene..[ it is meant to be about time travel but not in this part] It is in Northern Spain - 1937 the time travel bit in part 2.
Critiques welcome. Thank you
‘The year of our Lord 1937’. Demetrio silently repeated the words in his head. They comforted him for some reason. The mantra sounded suitably
ancient, ecclesiastical and solemn. Running the rosary beads between his fingers he fell to his knees and started to recite the Lord’s Prayer.
The small beached coves south of Bilbao always had such a healing effect on him, with their seductive curves and potent mix of mystery and desire. Not
today he just felt overwhelmingly sad and empty.
He longed to scream, to curse to rip the pain from his body with his bare hands. To shout of the injustice in the world, of the stupidity of man, to
beg for balance, to barter, to bargain ,to plead with God, to change things.
It was all so futile - resigned, he slumped forward, ' really - what was the point' he thought.
The front of his cotton shirt was flecked with sand, sweat and dried blood. He brushed at it distracted, wondering with desperation how things had
come to this and as he did so a lock of wet chestnut hair tumbled onto his face. He soothed it to the back of his head with his free hand,
momentarily, gazing out to the ocean and thought absently, how could the sun still be shining?
The sheep that looked like goats started moving in the fields, which bordered the cliff. He heard their bells clanging and a sudden thud of small
hooves. He inhaled the sweet smell in the air, flowers maybe or sweet grass but also tinged with the smell of animal dung and the warm body musk of
the beasts. It was a heady mix, quite soothing actually, if it had not been for the the sour, pungent smell of his own blood.
Despite everything, he laughed to himself completely unexpectedly but without joy. He always loved the smell of fresh manure, the aroma of pure
country air, it made him feel close to God, the Creator. This always made his family laugh when he told them such things, he imagined they thought it
was just one of his many quirks.
A bee, flitting between petals, collected nectar, focused and busy. He watched and wished he could be so present and full of peace. A sudden pang of
unease gripped his chest again, he took a deep breath as salt and ozone filled his lungs. How could everything look so normal, but nothing was normal,
he cried in his head.
He tightened the grip on his gun, it felt hard and even evil, he wanted to throw it away to destroy this instrument of death. A queasy feeling
preceded the swift rush of bile rising and he turned his head and vomited in the sand.
His parents and sister Maria and her children had been lucky to get a place on a voyage to England, he had had no contact with them for weeks but he
trusted they were being well looked after, he hoped and prayed this was true.
But. his thoughts were with his friends who were this day fighting to secure Bilbao and losing as Franco’s traitors had surrounded the city, the
nationalists were outnumbered and outgunned.
That unease again, this thing , this creature - that was overwhelming his life and squeezing the very life force from his being. Part of him wished
he had never left the seminary, but after what had happened, what choice did he have.
Demetrio lay on his back despite his discomfort, allowing the sun to warm his face and wondered how he could bear to return home and how could he bear
not to, he sighed.
He wished that childhood fantasies could comfort him now, dreams of swashbuckling pirates and buxom maidens, hidden treasure and distant lands, but
such sweet, innocent thoughts were far away .
The gulls cawing and the sea’s gentle, rhythmic sloshing, left him feeling suddenly exhausted his body ached and the cut in his side throbbed, but
he was suddenly overwhelmed and unable to move, he fell into a deep unconscious sleep…
He woke to a whining noise and a wet nose urgently prodding his cheek, it was Manny his friend Antonio’s hunting hound and as his eyes adjusted to
the dark he could make out the tall, straight, athletic figure of Antonio striding towards him and heard him call out his name.
‘’ Demetrio my friend, I thought you were dead, are you ok , my friend we have to leave it is not safe here, they are coming, all is lost,
Demetrio felt sick again and a dark, hollow ache engulfed his side, he just wanted to lie down and die.
‘’ come, come my friend we must go, let me see your wound’’ Antonio carefully pulled back Demetrio’s shirt and sucked his teeth, fresh blood
was oozing from a bullet wound that had pierced his side.
‘’ it is clean, it is clean, come I will fasten this around it and help you we must go’’
Antonio took off his shirt and rolled the large section around the sleeves, making one long make shift bandage, he tied it around Demetrio’s waste,
making him grimace in pain.
Manny barked, pointing his nose and body in the direction that Antonio had just appeared from.
‘’ we have to go, NOW ‘’
Antonio wrapped his considerable frame around Demetrio and pulled him to his feet. Demetrio half walked and was half dragged to a small cave that was
hidden behind a Cyprus bush, Manny panting, followed.
Silently they waited, as muffled footsteps filled the air and a small group of Republican Guards stepped into the clearing.
edit on 11-2-2013 by HelenConway because: (no reason given)