The General Bombardment Part 3

   He surprised her when he was back exactly a month later. He was sat with a tall, gaunt man with a shaved head. They had ordered coffee, but they were both drinking from a bottle of vodka.
    They were deep in heated debate, conversing rapidly in French and Russian.
   Only one word stood out : Chambardement General.
   Eventually he called her over.
   "Good to see you again. This is my good friend Eric Kuchova. Erik, this is...'
   Then the tall man started shouting in Russian, which she did not understand. He then snatched up the bottle of vodka and marched away.
   "Most embarrassing," Steven said, and then, "would you like to meet me for dinner?"
   "You can see me here everyday," Thuy replied.
   "Perhaps you might meet me elsewhere when you have time off work?"
   'You can see me here everyday.'
   He understood. His broad face turned grim, but then he smiled.
   "See you tomorrow, " he said with a grin, "good night."
   "See you again."

   The next morning she found that her cafe had been destroyed. Seemingly by a bomb small enough to smash the furniture, windows and doors, but cause no serious structural damage.
   Next, she spotted him across the street. he was sat in a tea shop and looked extremely pleased.
   'Good morning," he called across to her, "I see you have a few days off work, where would you like to go?"

The General Bombardment, Part 2

 

   "Chambardement General" is the French term. The General Bombardment. Blowing everything up. Destroying Society to start again. That was all that Thuy and Steven believed in. It was their love.

   Life, she thought, is a general bombardment. A bombardment of passions, of lies,of struggles. A bombardment of troubles to be met with a bombardment of solutions.

   They had met two years ago, in the cafe where Thuy had worked. 

   He was sat drinking wine alone, watching her all night like a hunter, catching glances and smiles. He stayed until all the other costumers and the French manager had gone home.  The air had hung heavy and humid that night. At that time, past midnight, the darkness on the street was disturbed only by the occasional rickshaw.

   Then, in her own language, he caller her over and offered her a glass of wine. She accepted, it had been a long day, and she had never sampled the wine she spent her life selling. 

   He told her, in tolerably good Vietnamese, that he would be going to Malay the next morning, and wished to see her when he returned in a month. His Vietnamese was soon extinguished, and although she spoke a little English and excellent French, she did not know what to say. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

   "It is monstrous!" he suddenly exclaimed with a wave of him arm to indicate everything.

   He repeated himself in French for her benefit.

   Her eyes showed that not only did she understand, she agreed.

   The wine was going to her head. Her high cheeks blushed crimson.

   "It is a mess," she said.

   "What is?" he seemed surprised and his head darted from side to side. 

   'Everything."

   He spoke rapidly in English, mixed with French, Vietnamese and Russian. It was impossible to understand, but he was definitely angry. 

   "Sorry," he said, after a pause. "I ought to go home. A bit too much wine."

   Thuy smiled.

   "Good night," he said, "See you in a month."

   "See you again," she said, and waved.

   She did not expect to see him again.

The General Bombardment, Part 1

   "Life is unfair," she told herself," and so am I."
   "Life is very hard," she told herself," and so am I."
   She only believed in one more thing; that the world was very dirty, and only dynamite could make it clean.
   
   Her lover, an English man who described himself as an "Explorer", had taught her this. When he was drunk, which was often, he would quote Lenin,
   "We destroy to build better."
   Lenin had said that more than ten years ago, and the world was not better yet. Clearly, she reasoned, much, much more needed to be destroyed.
   But where to start... Saigon offered so many targets... so many dirty places that needed destroying. She did not know where to begin.
   Fortunately she was still young, there was plenty of time.

   'Thuy,' he called out to her across the crowded street from the tiny cafe where he waited for her. 'You are late."
   "Always late," she said with a smile.
   "Better late than never, I have waited three months, what is one more hour?"
   He stood and embarrassed her.
   She normally hated it when he held her in public. A rickshaw driver frowned at her and spat on the floor, and two old ladies selling corn muttered viciously. But tonight she did not care.
   "Where have you been, Steven" Thuy asked him as she sat down. 
   "Eldorado."  
   He always said that when he didn't want to tell her where he had been. She knew it was a joke, but she did not understand it. She laughed anyway.
   "Would you like a drink?" he asked her.
   "No, the weather is fresh after the afternoon storms, lets go for a walk."
   She allowed him to take her hand in his huge, leathery hand, and they set off.
   
   "Is it really like Notre Dame in Paris?" she asked as they walked past the replica that the French had built.
   "Exactly,' he replied."It looks good in the moonlight."
   "It would look better in fire light."
   He kissed her passionately.  
 

Dual, part 10

   There was a note on my work bench, it read;

      'Lloyd,
               Pray stop killing. If you have, or ever wish to have, a soul about you, don't kill again. You ought to know that every cut across my fiance will be a stab in my heart.'

   This made me pause for thought, I had no wish to stab her in the heart.
   That was the day after Johnny came to see me. I shall explain.

   I had met him the day after the last time that I had met Annabel.
   On that evening, I had told her the way I felt about her, and what I wanted. I am not a patient man, and I believe in honesty. In other words, I am brutally direct.
   'I am engaged to another man,' she had said.
   'To hell with him,' I had said.
   Then some more.
   Anyway, he barged into my workshop and demanded satisfaction. I was happy to oblige.

   Then came her letter, and things became some what complicated.
   I had a little thinking to do.

   Anyway, as the challenged party, I had the right to choose weapons. I had chosen pistols. As you know, that is not my usual way. At the time, in my rage, I had decided that I wished to shoot him down like a dog. He was unworthy of the exertion of being butchered.
   He had challenged me on a Saturday. Normally, these things are settled the next dawn, but I do not work on a Sunnday. Thus, we agreed to fight on the Monday.I had one night between reading her letter and fighting her fellow. You may be suprised to hear that I slept soundly that night.

Dual, part 9

   I did not see her again for a few days, as she had made it clear that she would be busy. For a few days, i worked alone in my forge. then one evening, I met Jack in an ale house.
   It was a badly lit place, with saw dust on the floor and bar maids who were more buxom that pretty. I'm sure you know the sort of place. We sat near the fire, and enjoyed our ale.
   "See those Prussian officers over there?" Jack said suddenly. "Ugly brutes!"
   He pointed across the smoky room, without any subtly, at two large men. They sported impressive mustaches, and sat as straight and proud as pine trees. one had a scar across his cheek. From their immaculate   attire, ruggedness of features, and the tones of their loud voives, they were almost certainly Prussian officers.
   I shrugged my shoulders.
   "Can you speak German?" Jack asked me.
   "Not much."
  "Well, I can. And I don't much care for what they are saying."
   I took a sip of my ale. it was clear where this was leading.
  "The blaggards!" Jack exclaimed, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "Boasting! Boasting of their superior artillery! Prussians cannot stop bloating!"
   Everyone in the room looked at him, then at me, then away from us.
   "You are causing a scene," I objected. "Are you trying to get me in a fight?"
   "Of course."
   "Well, don't."
   "Why on Earth not?"
   "I am an not beast. I will fight if I am provoked, but I do not fight for entertainment."
   "That is untrue."
   "Perhaps. But I do not fight for your entertainment."
   "But they are Prussians! Killing them would be patriotic. It might improve your dreadful reputation."
   "Since when do I give a damn about my reputation."
   He had no answer for That. we finished our drinks in silence, then ordered more.
   "My God!" Jack cried. "The damn brutes just insulted The Queen."
   "Be quiet! ... I don't even believe that you can speak German. You only want a good fight to write a poem about."
   "Of course."
   "You are awfully cold hearted, for a poet."

Dual, part 8

   That was too much for her.
   She just sat back in her chair and let the world go on without her.
   I know a little of the minds of men. Kill one man, and you are a criminal, kill ten and you are a hero. But 44? 44 is unthinkable.
   So I just kept talking. 
   'The second time I challenged a fellow, I was drunk... Was drunk a lot in those days... Still killed the man. I'm rather good at it, you see. Was frustrated all the time, you know, got mortally offended easily... After a while, it became habit- then addiction.'
   '44?' she finally asked.
   'Aye, 44.'
   'All because of that girl, Emily?'
   'Yes,you could say that.'
   She sat thoughtfully for a long time, then her eyes lit up.
   'That is, at once, the most monstrous and the most romantic thing I have ever heard.'

   True love is loving some one or some thing more than one loves one's self.
   Addiction is the same, apart from that the thing you love ABSOLUTELY does not love you. Maybe it even hates you.    
   I, for instance, am addicted to Death.
   Once, i was addicted to love. that was not so entertaining.

The Vampyre

I )

Play with fire,
Play with desire,
Do not play,
With The Vampyre,

II )

You won't hear him coming,
You won't hear a thing at all,
You won't hear him coming
When he's walking down the hall,
You won't hear him coming,
When he answers your call,

III )

He casts no shadows,
Sees you in the darkness,
He feels no sorrow,
Knows nothing but madness,
He's at the window,
Hungry and heartless,
He takes you're life,
Lost, alone and helpless.