Viet Cong tag

He’s going to die. They are going to kill him. He lamented. He began trembling again. Fear is a cold no blanket or fire can ever warm. He surrendered to his bedroom and requested solace. My mother emerged from his room to the hungry stares of the crowd. Taking on the role of an understudy, she tried to address the crowd but not having fully digested the news herself, she found herself stammering underneath the spotlight.

The Beheading

2 Comments