Gas Mask – Object Writing March 17
Mar 22nd, 2009 | By admin | Category: Daily WritingLike a mask of death it rested on her face, the dials of glass lighting up her eyes but not showing the full rate of her heart, catapulting to and fro in her rib cage. Panic was the only certainty at this moment as sirens wailed and shells hailed down on this quarter of the city.
The radio broadcast and warning that the enemy might use some form of chemical weapon had been as direct as an express train from Brighton – and when the bombardment began, she had reached for the rubbery face beneath the desk and ran for the safety of the shelter. At first the reassuring trunk leading to the canister of life had made her move with certain steps, but now as the city was pounded with random burst after burst of shellfire her hopes began to disintegrtae. She felt trapped in a cage, and the mask seemed to enclose all her phobias, her breathing rasped in the recycled air, tasting slightly metallic and smelling of year old rubber.
When the shelling ceased she retained the mask as she had been instructed to do. Emerging from the bunker, another round of desolation spread like a child’s sand pit adventure before her and the air was filled with clouds of rambling dust and random fires that….
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