Monday, 18 June 2012

Apocoliptic Flash Fiction- The Leader.

When I first met our Leader I knew dispair. 
It was meant to be an honour: to meet the Leader of the free peoples. 
It had been a long, hard war. Longer after we had ran out of bullets and harder after we had ran out of oil, but we had the Leader. 
The Leader sat in his tent, sword across his lap, studying a map. 
'The enemy press our eastern flank, shall we retreat?' his lieutenant enquired of him. 
'Noo!' bellowed the Leader. 
'As you wish,' the lieutenant continued, 'shall we send reinforcements?' 
'Yeah!' 
It was then that I noticed that the Leader's map was upside down. Still his dark eyes studied it. They were kind eyes, like an animal which knew peace. 
'And shall we continue our advance in the north?' 
'Yeah,' the Leader growled with conviction. 
Then I knew no more fear, for our Leader knows no fear, and he never will.