It's all in the wrist

From the Story Arc: Bestla's Diary

Previous Story in the Arc: Milk and cookies by Bestla (Tuesday, August 10, 2004)

Next Story in the Arc: Redemption by Worker's Champion (Wednesday, August 11, 2004)

(posted Tuesday, August 10, 2004)

Every jump the plane made while touching the landing pad, was like a nail in my coffin. I suddenly had the distinct feeling we won't come back to the US.

There he stood, in the snow, with his bare chest exposed to the wind that always blows in my homeland. As he always does, he was giving us his back. While we walked into the snowy field to reach him, recovering an habit I had since I was a child I covered my skin with a soft mantle of flames, that melted the snow around my legs and made me feel, for a split second, confortable. With great caution I took Mojiotok hand in mine, it was gelid.

"You are late" His voice never sounded so deep, as it was coming from the earth beneath us.
"We're not here to stay, Worker's Champion". Mojiotok could barely force his voice not to tremble, his body shaking with terrible shivers, his skin pale, almost white.
"You are no more accostumed to your land, Commisar?"
"Please commander, let us go. We came back just to ask you to set us free. We didn't want to offend you anymore, we respect you. But please let us go home free." My voice was almost lost in the storm that was beginning to rage in the steppe.
"Nonsense. This is your home. As for your freedom, you're not in the land of freedom anyomore. You will serve the collective cause."
"I'm not your lackey, you don't have any autority on me. I'm a Commisar of the Coalition of Communist Crusaders for the Proletariat and a free man, don't think you can intimidate me with this comedy of the hero in the snow! As for Bestla, she will come with me, she's part of the Red Brigade now, a group on which you can claim any feud." I didn't like the tone of Mojiotok. I knew very well where that was bringing us.

As the incarnation of all my child fears, he turned around and scowled at us.
"You want to be free? Freedom is win with strenght alone in this harsh land. Win your freedom, if you dare." As everyone present already had imagined this moment for all life, we moved in a circle, like wolves. Both me and Mojiotok searched for any iota of energy we had in our body and jumped at him in the same exact moment equally desperated, frustrated, angried, enraged maybe even panicked. A moment later I was face in the snow, stunned by the blow I recived.
"You won't run away from me, Bestla" he whispered. Then slowly, almost gently, snapped the bones of my leg, with a single circular movement of his wrist.

I coudn't run no more.