The Poppy Boys

Just a short story about life through *someone's* eyes (not going to give it away, the identity of the story teller is to for you to contemplate) about the of one soldier furing WW1. Enjoy, it's an on-going thing.
Please comment, I (like everyone) love feedback. I'll always do the same. :) This is THE BOOK THEIF fan-fiction


1. Introductions

Some of them think I'm God.

Brahma, Allah, Waheguru, Supreme One, Lord. A paramount, inconcievable predominance over humanity, throughout eternity and the most revered heavens and the sequestered dimensions.

They're wrong.

I am no God. No.

Perhaps it's the fear. The uncomprehensible terror that accompnies bleak, desolate, searing... loneliness. They need a perfect, absolute hand to craft their souls into angelic replicas of a divine essence. When I find them, they don't beg for life. No, dear reader. They ask for kindness.

Now, I ask you, is that fair?

I can be Amiable. Benign. Convinient. Delightful. Favourable. Generous.  

I am not Kind. No.

Never Kind.


Oh. Don't be scared.

No, really. There's no point.

Because I'll find you. One day. Perhaps when you're least expecting it. Though it's in your interest if you're waiting for me. And in the meantime, if you're wondering what I am...


... try looking in the mirror some time.


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