The Olive Grove

Photo by Flor Saurina on Unsplash

He clawed at the shrapnel tearing through his chest, ripping through flesh and puncturing organs with sounds that echoed in the darkness, surrounding him in a gruesome radio production of his own mortality. The void of the blind eternities stretched out before him as his breath betrayed him in ragged, staccato bursts and the sounds of destruction fell away, like water over the edge of a…

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Freelance writer, editor and all-round curious so and so. Writing about politics, being queer, and lots besides! Get in touch at sean.writing27@gmail.com

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