The Trap of Long's Form

A thousand pointless conflicts and bitter stalemates stitched together like a triaged chest wound. It is a butchered border, a thin and punctured membrane between the unending meek-rinder and the terrified victims in Long's form. You may find this trench reaching all across the world and it will never stop, never be satisfied, never think of peace. Charlie stands there, waiting in a transport. Once it was a thin metal landing craft drifting slowly through a fettied lake. The waters were red and black by turns with blood and oil and the floating bodies of those before them that were pushed aside by the boat's wake. Next to him, Charlie saw Ryan

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