FFFTTD Day 8: Write a story about enchanted masks.
The masks were magic, my brother said.
The masks let us scavenge above ground for food and other supplies while others choked and died in the war air. There were too many civilians down in the shelters and the war was lasting too long. Uncontaminated food was hard to come by. My brother told me that people would start starving soon.
But not us, he said.
The masks were soldier masks, heavy and plated and triple filtered. When we put them on our shoulders our heads looked too big for our bodies. The first time I saw my brother in his mask, I thought a soldier had come into our shelter and I screamed until he took it off.
We had to hide the masks from the other civilians. My brother told me that if anyone else saw the masks, they would kill us and take the masks, or they would take the masks and not kill us and we would die anyway.
Did you get the masks from a solider, I asked.
No, said my brother.
I really need to write more stories about siblings.
Christian – “An Artist’s Gallery”
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