Writing and Publishing (week 6)

Another week has gone and now time to post another one.
Not entirely happy with the result. I started off writing romance and soon warmed up my mind to thinking quite bitter thoughts for some reason. I seem to write better when one of the characters is bitter about something. One thing I learnt today was nobody is ever totally evil or totally a good person, there is always a balance between the two. I guess this guy is more good but obviously in his past there could have been some evil thats making him go into hiding now

But I'll let you be the judge of that!

Enjoy

The stench of the fire as water sloshed over it snaked around the living room. I listened for any sign of disturbances in my house as I crept to the bedroom, now prepared for another sleepless night as I clutched the cold metal under my pillow while my wife played with my hair on the other side. Every night previous to this she would whisper in my ear for me to lie with her again, for joy to cling to our bodies, but every time she would wrap her warm hands around my chest I wouldn’t make any effort to move from my position. She would soon braid my hair and rest her head on my chest defeated once again. I used to wake up in the middle of the night in a sweat, with my hands covered in blood from clenching, while still holding my knife. My hands are now covered in old and new scars from accidently slashing my hand.
My wife used to say the best part about me was my hands. They were soft once, yet manly at the same time. She would guide my hands over her body just so she could feel my silk strong touch, and now she’s too afraid to even hold my hand. Every scar she feels is a reminder of my fear. It’s as if fear is scraping at my skin slowly taking away my sanity. If a strong man like me is terrified of what creaks in the night then what is my wife going to do when the time comes and they finally take us away? I can’t protect her even with the knife I hold at night. It’s a poor defence compared to the weapons they use to make us cooperate.

Night washed over us as I fell into another trance wondering what to do. We could no longer escape, for it seemed every planet was taken over by them.
I sighed heavily as she tossed and turned next to me while whispering
“What will this world come to if everyone was under their spells?”
“It will die my dear” I rasped back
“So why are we still hiding when there is no hope for us anymore?” she rolled over to me and started braiding my hair “are you so afraid of freedom that you would run and hide for the rest of your life?” I thought about what she said through the whole night. I never answer her and she knows I possibly never will. I am confident though, that one day I will come up with an answer, and when I do finally reply to her I will taste the sweetness of freedom and then can die with her peacefully. Instead, I still taste the bitterness of war and like licking a battery it will remain there until I can think of a reason why following orders and slaughtering innocent people is their answer to the end of war…