Originally this was another short story from my strainge-fiction alter ego, Eric Stringer: A Natural Study of the Scream. But I realized I’d already posted that one, way back in February. So instead, here’s one from me, one I just finished. Enjoy. The morning is actually chilly, the ground and the tall grass and the fallen, rotted, tree trunks soaked through to varying degrees. The humidity from the overnight storm huddles heavily beneath the canopy, gathers its forces and drips them from the leaves. The secondary rain. That’s how I came to think of it.
I was right. Pedro did get hit and never moved. What a soldier.