Violent Frightening Disaster

by The Corpse Maker

A story about an organization of volunteers, a schism, a sugar bowl, an obscure writer, deadly driving lessons, unpleasant lemon scones, hideous bow ties, secret messages and lots, lots of fires. If you are J.F., read every ten words and use the coffee maker to decode. If you aren't J.F., don't read any word at all.

4. Interlude : Ventus Facis Damnum

Ventus Facis Damnum

(Le Vent Façonne mon Désespoir)

A Boat. The Atlantic Ocean. Seven years after the schism.

Beatrice. Beatrice.

The water around me reminds me of the fire surrounding you, that night.

The ocean reminds me of the salty drops of water running on your cheeks made pure light by the flames licking your house.

Your tears remind me of my tears, that same night, when I realized that you wouldn't survive.

So many salty tears because of a sugar pot.

The marine wind in my hair reminds me of the wind feeding the fire in which you disappeared.

The false mustache on my lips reminds me of the lips I longed to kiss.

The eye on my ankle reminds me of your gaze.

And the steward just reminded me of the fact that I really need to leave the ship before they release the lions.

L.S.