New Sun - By hypericin
I found him slouched against a chain link fence. His jacket rumpled, he seemed anonymous and insignificant. He should be freezing, but vodka convinced him otherwise.
My stomach churned, I felt dizzy. My knife's bone handle dug into my palm. I crept forward, heart pounding, very audibly I feared.
Feeling as if I stepped off a cliff, I lunged forward, grabbed his hair, and slit his throat.
His body came alive with a vigor that seemed to give the lie to presumed drunkenness. I leaped back in horror. He pointed at me, and cried out, but only a terrible, gurgling gasp emerged. He collapsed onto the pavement.
He looked up, and his eyes, suddenly poignant, asked "How could you do *this* to me?" in their primordial language. His inner light flickered, died.
My heart blackened, filled with a terrible hatred. I cursed, spat on him, stomped his head until it broke and spilled its contents.
I fled down broken streets to my ruined apartment. I washed as best I could, and sat, cold, terrified. Through a hole in my wall I watched the night die, birthing a new sun, weak, watery, chill, over the streets of occupied Kherson.
My stomach churned, I felt dizzy. My knife's bone handle dug into my palm. I crept forward, heart pounding, very audibly I feared.
Feeling as if I stepped off a cliff, I lunged forward, grabbed his hair, and slit his throat.
His body came alive with a vigor that seemed to give the lie to presumed drunkenness. I leaped back in horror. He pointed at me, and cried out, but only a terrible, gurgling gasp emerged. He collapsed onto the pavement.
He looked up, and his eyes, suddenly poignant, asked "How could you do *this* to me?" in their primordial language. His inner light flickered, died.
My heart blackened, filled with a terrible hatred. I cursed, spat on him, stomped his head until it broke and spilled its contents.
I fled down broken streets to my ruined apartment. I washed as best I could, and sat, cold, terrified. Through a hole in my wall I watched the night die, birthing a new sun, weak, watery, chill, over the streets of occupied Kherson.
Comments (21)
The horrors of war personified in the dehumanisation. But then this:
Quoting Caldwell
The hope of renewal keeps the spirit barely alive even as the heart dies blackened with hatred.
It makes me so very sad.
The author expertly shows great understanding and sensitivity to the fear and the killings. On both sides. Russia and Ukraine. But it could be anywhere, anytime.
The fact is we have all seen the images of the holes in walls; the gaps where people once lived.
Now dead.
The utter needless destruction, repeated.
I could cry.
I see the piece as a really descriptive piece, showing the tangled emotions of confronting a horrific death. It is interesting how the lover feels anger to her partner for dying at this point of realisation as opposed towards the enemy killer and the war situation. What it shows is the strange logic of the experience of emotions and shock of horror.
Quoting Jack Cummins
What lover? How do you know a character was a woman? What did I miss?
You are quite right. I was making assumptions, especially about the narrator being a woman. I had a look at it now and there is no indication whatsoever about the gender of the character. I wonder if this is important and whether this ambiguity is done with intent, as a way of leaving it up to the scope of the reader's imagination.
A romantic angle would make the story interesting, but... 200 words doesn't allow for too many extra angles.
Yes, the brain-stomping was a bit over the top - even a zealous partisan would probably settle for a couple of kicks. And he would most likely be male, since this kind of operation sometimes involves hand-to-hand combat. The women and kids are more useful as scouts and couriers; you don't waste people by assigning them the wrong task for their physical abilities.
At first, there were two things that made my right eyebrow spring skyward.
First, the head smashing seems gratuitous and out of character. It seemed to me that spitting on the body would have been enough at that point in the story. But now, although it still stands out as jarring and anomalous, I think it probably works to convey the brutalization caused by war.
Second, the author withholds the setting till the very last word, and Im usually not a fan of that, especially with something as serious as a current war. I thought maybe it was too gimmicky or tricksy, but now I think it was probably a good choice, because the reader will read the bulk of the story without prejudice.
Kudos to the author for tackling a difficult subject in this format without making it trite. I still dont know if Im comfortable with it or if I like it, exactly, but I do think its well done, ambitious, and takes the subject seriously. Its also very strong and memorable. I gave it an upvote.
And I think it also to some extent humanizes the occupier, portraying him as an ignorant drunk who doesnt understand how someone can feel so much hatred towards him.
Exactly this. It's why I called it 'beautiful' even if it describes the brutality and ugliness of war.
Quoting Bitter Crank
Yes. After the frenzy of the previous:
Quoting Caldwell
The pace and rhythm slowed right down to 'Kherson' in that final poetic sentence.
There is a musicality to the story. The score to the film.
Quoting Caldwell
Kherson. Most people now know what it stands for in terms of the human spirit.
The fight back against ruthless oppression.
Historically, the population has been through many wars and survived.
A 'New Sun' a repeat. It will rise again. Lest We Forget :pray:
I think we all make assumptions when we read. I assumed it was male.
You made me think again.
The sheer force of the rage and attack would not likely come from a lover.
But from a woman who has been brutally raped and continuously abused. Perhaps.
It also made me think of what else occurs under the cover of war.
The crimes. Human trafficking.
Vulnerable women and children fleeing; males of fighting-age (18-60yrs) having to stay behind.
The response by other countries in accepting refugees.
Also the inspiring stories of soldiers helping elderly women cross bridges; stretchering pregnant women from bombed maternity hospitals. Elderly stoics staying behind; pumping and fetching water for themselves and others. Others already suffering in hospitals or care homes:
"I was born in a war and will die in war".
So many stories.
It is interesting how each of us comes from assumptions, such as whether a character is male or female. I am aware that I may have got it wrong and, maybe I was not concentrating properly, but it shows the difficulty of communication in fiction, probably more so than any other form of writing, So much comes down to the subtext rather than that which is spelt out clearly, and this may be picked up differently according to the mindset and subjectivity of the reader. I am sure that whoever the author is may be groaning at any misreadings.
I think the head-stomping was a biggish clue. I mean, what kind of footwear would she need?
This is an absurd, trivial response to the possibility that the attacker was a woman. Do you think Kherson women wouldn't wear heavy boots in the cold, mud and blood? Or are you playing some kind of devil's advocate?
In this fictional account, it was a smashing of the head after a slitting of the throat. It need not initially mean the skull but the face, eyes, ears, nose, and mouth i.e. soft tissues.
Quoting Vera Mont
You say it was most likely an operation carried out by a male. Your perspective fails to mention that civilian women and children would be trained to kill. You suggest that 'even a zealous partisan would probably settle for a couple of kicks'. Your careful qualifications do not preclude the possibility of it being a female attacker.
In reality: the civilian population is being slaughtered; they arm themselves as well as they can. They hate the invaders. Theirs is a passion to kill; to protect themselves and the independence of Ukraine. A couple of kicks won't cut it.
~~~
Kherson. Live news. The horror is ongoing.
24th December 2022
Quoting Guardian - Russia-Ukraine War Live: death toll in Kherson rises
~~~
Quoting CNN edition - Kherson city attacked 23 times in last 24 hrs
~~~
Women raped in Kherson. A real story. One woman's reported experience.
Quoting Euronews
It kinda puts into perspective any thoughts on women's footwear in this micro-fiction.
***
Again, the author has created something unique, special and memorable.
It doesn't matter whose interpretation is right.
What matters is...well, you know what matters...
Thank you :sparkle:
Yes, it's possible.
It is likely that the reason why I may have not jumped to the conclusion that the character was male is that I have seen some very violent women while working in psychiatric hospital. You'd be surprised how aggressive some females were. Not that I would say that all people with mental illness are violent though, as a large proportion of people with mental illness are extremely gentle and newspaper story stereotypes are unhelpful..
But I will stop here because this discussion may overshadow the interpretation of the story as there is no clear reason to question the character's gender or mental state.
Quoting Vera Mont
In my mind, the first three words, "I found him", suggested that there was a special connection between the protagonist and victim, that the victim had personally visited some kind of atrocity on the protagonist.
Also, the previous line was meant to reveal the humanity of the victim. The protagonist experienced this humanity, and responded with rage: why should he feel the guilt he must have felt, for destroying this life. Also, this was frankly channeling some of my personal rage at the abomination of this war.
To be fair, the story itself was inspired by an impersonal operation carried out by a Kherson local I read about, so this is a more than valid interpretation. .
Feels rather fantastic/rich gothic fiction and therefore I don't want it to have any concrete references that tie it to an ongoing atrocity. It feels too embellished to be a sober telling of contemporary war. Makes me want to read true first hand accounts to see how they're comparable.
That was a good opening opening line. It set the tone that the two had an unfortunate history of some sort. The ending, of course, is a good one.
Quoting Nils Loc
Similar to my sentiment. I didn't want the story to be about or tied to a war. In itself, it's building up to something that's too personal between the two.