My career as a war correspondent was on its spring but my life seeming closer to its ultimate end. Like I kept on discovering what I signed up for. But in the middle of a full-blown war, there’s no turning back.
It was the 9th of July, after series of gruesome battles consisting of heavy artilleries like I’ve never seen before. The red coats finally drove those yellow monsters out of these bordering communities, it was a quick retreat. My heart could finally rest just a while before another moribund experience. But what these monsters left was ruin of humanity.
Upon reclaiming our lost grounds, we met the remains of a collision of helpless civilians with wild animals.
They tortured civilians in many villagers, nailed lots on barn doors. In a farmland, just further down the road stood a cart to which 3 naked women were nailed through their hands like a crucifix. I almost threw up, but beyond we found a total of 67 women and an old man murdered in such bestial manner. Exceptions were those who had bullet holes in different parts of their bodies.
Every female including those as young as 11 had been raped, old men trying to save their loved ones were if not sawed into 2 were cut into bits. Hidden in a wardrobe was lay an infant probably months old, a bullet hole on her head; blood everywhere. On streets road, you could pick up human meat squashed by military tankers.
The few survivors found in sewage tanks and gutters were horrified by their ordeals of hell on earth. These crackled bulging eyes needed reasons to thrust in humanity before they pop.
Reading Children of Blood & bone . The narrative & descriptions felt so real. Whenever I got lost in a fantasy world of panthenaires, lionaires, maji, kosidans and magic I never wanted leave. Those moments felt like I lived the fiction & I wanted no escape. "Kwame brushes past me, running for the heart of the battle. He grips a dagger tight in his hands. Then he slashes open his palm. Blood magic. Horror settles into my bones. It’s like the world slows to a stop, stretching the seconds between this moment and the last Kwame will ever have. His blood glows with a white light, splashing as it hits the ground. In an instant the ivory light surrounds him, illuminating his dark skin like a god from above. When it reaches the top of his head, it seals his fate. A fire explodes from his skin. Smoldering embers rain from his body. Flames blaze around his form. The fire erupts from every limb, shooting out of his mouth, his arms, his legs. The blast towers meter...
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