【Shadou】Alternative of the same kind

A story suddenly took root in his heart, pulled out soft branches, stretched slowly, branched at unknown places, the trunk continued to extend, and stopped at the top.

It was a skeleton, waiting to be filled with flesh, or petals, or sprouts.

Salaman had a very long dream, and it was extraordinarily deep, as if he was walking in a long and narrow valley. He was cautious, but stepped on the ground, his eyelids were heavy, and he was dragged into the darkness. When he opened his eyes again, what he saw was a new world.

Maybe this is called the world of the past.

Many people were fully armed, all wearing their guns, the sabers were turned in their hands, held again, and inserted into the hilt with a snap, everything was in order.

Their faces were hard to see. In the haze, he saw the slightly chapped lips of these people. There was a person standing at the door. He said something in a language he could not understand. What did the soldiers yell out from between the chapped lips? , Salaman felt that they were from different countries because they pronounced the words differently.

Another possibility is that they are saying their own names.

Salaman ran to ask that person, where is this place?who are you?

But it seems that he was strangled, or he was originally dumb, he couldn't make a sound, so he could only look at everything dejectedly, but nothing looked at him, including those people.

Now he knows he doesn't belong here.

Then the memory was blurred, he knew that the enemy army was coming and blown up the headquarters, and he also saw the national flag in the barracks, blue, red, yellow, black, green...too many colors too Too many shapes to piece together—there were so many flags, he couldn't remember them all.

Damn.

Salaman hates this. When he dreams, everything seems real. He is there, but when he wakes up, everything dissipates and turns into gas. He tries to escape. He inhales, inhales again, and finally he can only inhale A little bit, a little bit of memory.

But it's an inspiration, and it's a nice story.

Tomorrow the school will have a seven-day holiday, so he must make good use of today's time.

He looked at his schedule and confirmed that there was a swimming lesson in the afternoon. He almost drowned in it last time. The teacher thought he would suffer from hydrophobia, so he approved that he could not come.

It could not be better.

He packed his schoolbag and walked to the school library.

Verdun is located on the banks of the Meuse River, and the small stream along the river fled to the surrounding area, forming a small lake. Due to the colder climate, thick ice can be frozen in winter, and when the last fish dives into the bottom, it will not appear again. It's time for children to play.

Naturally, there will be some people whose conscience is frozen and will be shattered at the slightest touch. That person is definitely not Angel, that person is just a hunter, and also happens to be a prey.

"what are you doing here?"

Angor's car lights dazzled people's eyes, and the majestic words made the other party startled and sat on the ground, and dropped a rope and a saber in his hand.

"No, you've got the wrong person, it's not me!!" The uncle sitting on the ground was terrified, scratching his hair indiscriminately, at a loss, he wiped his face down indiscriminately.

Angor felt that he was not a random passerby, but no matter what he was, he was a prey in his eyes.

Angel picked up the knife, of course he put on the gloves, and then pointed at the man calmly, he was very curious about this man.

"Don't pretend to be stupid, I know who you are, and I told you everything honestly."

It's really funny, he lied without changing his face, Angel didn't know if it was a bad joke.

"Please let me go. I only caught those children and sold them on the black market because I lacked money. Now that I don't lack money, I won't do that anymore."

"Oh? Then how are you going to explain this knife and that rope?" As he spoke, he shook the knife, took a step forward, and stepped on the rope.

"Clumsy lie." Something was wrong with Angel.

"False friendliness." He stepped back and bent over to pick up the rope.

"And that dirty black market, why do you send your children to that ghostly place where they can die at any time!?" He was a little angry, and the anger that others didn't understand burst into his heart.

"No, please." The man wanted to get up and run away, but Angor kicked him on his left rib and curled up on the ground in pain.

"Those damned people...you're as disgusting as they are!!" He said the word slowly, each sound sonorous, but surrounded by anger and darkness.

"No one came to save me, and no one to save those children." He raised the knife to cut his hamstring, the prey howled, he raised the knife again, cut the other foot's tendon, and then he pressed On the man, the silver hair was not spattered with blood.

"I thought there would be no such disgusting things here, but I didn't expect..." He grabbed the man's neck with one hand, and pointed the knife at his throat with the other hand.

"Madman, you are a lunatic!!!!" The man struggled, but was locked so tightly that he couldn't resist.

"You are also a lunatic, and they are all lunatics." There was less anger in his words, and he was sifting through something.

"No... there is one person who is not crazy."

He pierced the man's shoulder blade, and the ultramarine hair flashed through his mind.

"Those children won't meet the gods." Angel stuck the knife on the ground and strangled the man with a rope to make him lose his life.

He got up and picked up the tubes, pulled out a knife and cut open the man's neck, and viciously inserted the tubes into the flesh, and continued to move in until the flesh and blood somewhat blocked the tubes.

"I met the gods, but they didn't."

His red hair was blown to pieces by the wind. Salaman flipped through the book patiently, recording something from time to time, then closed the book, left his seat, walked to the bookshelf, and looked at it carefully.

His fingers were placed on a book, his feet moved forward, his fingers brushed across the spine of a book, his red eyes widened, and he looked for something useful to him.

He took home a thick book, and the dim color symbolized the heavy history.

"Complete Records of the First World War" is a British popular science documentary. Someone stated it on paper in the form of words and bound it into a book. It is currently being dissected by Salaman.

The battle of Verdun, the meat grinder of Verdun, the broken city, the pattern after the bombardment... Crazy, those people are crazy.

He copied it quickly, then carefully closed the book, and heaved a sigh of relief, as if an ancient demon had fled to this day and had just been sealed in the book by him.

Holding the books he was holding, he began to put them back to their original places one by one. The library was very quiet, and occasionally someone whispered, which would not attract attention.

"That boy ran to such a place."

"A sick child likes literature, and Shakespeare will hit a wall."

"Sap, do you think that is his schoolbag?" Nikuta pointed to the window seat.

"Like, wait, what's on the table?"

He went over to grab it and looked at it. There were a few pages of handwritten information about the historical facts that he needed to know to write the script.

He suddenly laughed, and the villain succeeded in his trick.

"Haha, let's go, Nikuta, we got a free gift." As he spoke, he waved a few pages of information in his hand, and then walked to the door.

"what is this?"

"That coward's World War I materials, we can use them, you know, the final homework can't be fooled like usual."

Nikuta turned over a few pages, which were very detailed.

"Let's go, let him go today."

There was a red-haired kid who came back and couldn't find his stuff, and that was his achievement.

He panicked, flipped through the papers and notebooks in a hurry, and poured out the things in the schoolbag, nothing, nothing everywhere.

"Do you know if someone has been to my seat?"

"Oh boy, where are you sitting?"

The administrator's gentle smile gave Salaman a little comfort.

"The location by the window on the east side."

"Oh boy, it's a blind spot, I can't see it, and I can't take that spot two rows forward... I'm so sorry."

There was steam in the corners of his eyes, because he dragged the man's body to the sewage outlet, and it was steaming here, and the steam covered him, damn wet feeling.

He threw the man down, but his bloated body lay across the mouth of the water pipe. Angel could only break off the tree trunk, reach to the man's side, straighten it up hard, and push him down.

He walked back without even looking to see if the body was completely sucked into the current. It was a terrible day, that man, the dirty water in the ground, the stinking streets, and a dirty version of himself.

He thought his hair was gray, until the gods took him out of hell, he soaked himself in the bathtub, and his mirror self told him that his hair was noble silver.

The gods, the gods come from heaven, but the gods who can save him come from darkness.

There is a motivation in the human heart to live, and his motivation is to repay the kindness. For this reason, he followed the gods, came out of hell, and fell into the darkness.

All he can do is to be the bodyguard or messenger of the gods.

The contents of the bucket are therefore his offerings of adoration.

Can't cry, those who cry are useless.

But the blood is gone, what should he do?

Scribing exercises people's memory, but it is far from something he can remember at one time. Salaman's heart is about to explode. He is angry and excited, and his adrenal glands are secreting hormones. His blood pressure rises and his heart beats so fast that he would die.

"Bang bang bang—"

"Who's outside?" Salaman was sure that his mother would not come back today, so he and his father went to go through the divorce procedures, and there were still some unclear properties to be distributed to whom and how, anyway, it was none of his business.

Who would it be?Librarian?She found her lost information and returned it to herself?But she shouldn't know her address.

It was useless to guess, he should have opened the door.

Shelan Udos swore that she couldn't stand the pounding heartbeat and the sound of panting next door before she knocked on the door to find out what happened.

He knew there was only one person at home, and that person was Salaman, he was sure.

This person always troubles me, but I can't refuse his troubles. Such an incompetent self is really annoying.

"Bang bang bang—"

He knocked on the door again, why didn't anyone answer the door?

"Squeak-"

"Mr. Sandral, why are you here?"

"..." He didn't think about how to answer this question, why are you here?Do you want me to say that your heartbeat is too fast to disturb my sleep?Do not make jokes!

"Anyway, let's talk in the house first." Saying that, Salaman opened the door, and the not-so-glare light hit his light-colored home clothes, and it became much softer. He felt that he was attracted to him.

But he stood still.

"Let's go in the house? You mean you let me in?"

"Eh? That's right, that's what it means."

What kind of strange question is this?

"So answer my question, can I come in?"

"Yes, you can come in."

Salaman felt that this was a ceremony, simple but solemn, small but indispensable.

Those questions were weird, like the scriptures recited by worshipers. Salaman couldn't understand them, and he didn't believe in religion, so he could only pretend to answer like others.

It's just that he answered alone just now, and he didn't know whether it was correct or not.

He watched Sandraar enter the room, find the sofa and sit down directly, as if this place belonged to him, but he didn't feel disgusted, and subconsciously accepted everything.

"Why are you here?"

"Are you crying?"

"No."

"Why is your heart beating so fast?"

"I......"

He didn't know how to answer.

"Tell me what you're doing, Salaman."

He suddenly regretted saying such a sentence, damn it and then he will open a chatterbox that will close when he doesn't know when, but unless you kill him, you can only wait for him to finish speaking.

"It's because of the final assignment. We have to write a play about World War II. I went to the library to stay up all afternoon today and made an excerpt, but the notes for the excerpt disappeared, so..."

"So your heart is beating so fast that you're about to jump out? Your angry face and hair are almost the same color." As he spoke, he rolled his eyes at Salaman, who received the look and scratched his head in embarrassment.

"Well, can you help me? The script is best around Verdun." He lowered his head, as if admitting his mistake, embarrassed, speechless, and panicked.

"Verdun? You mean here?"

Shelan Udos stepped on the ground by the way, signaling Salaman to give an accurate answer.

"Yes, it is here."

He didn't understand why Sandraar wasn't sure about his problem, but after thinking about it, he thought that his description might not be accurate, and finally said:

"It's Verdun in northeastern France."

"It's really boring." Shelan Udos said mockingly, his face expressionless.

What is he talking about?I?Own?this assignment?Or the teacher who assigns homework?

Or here, and the battle that happened here?

Salaman couldn't understand what the person in front of him was always thinking, because sometimes he couldn't understand what he said, so he had to pick what he wanted to ask clearly, and then find the part he could understand as his own. "Answer".

"No... Maybe it's interesting." Salaman wasn't sure what he heard, but saw Sandral's shallow smile, which still contained irony and mocking elements, but it seemed to be more.. ....gentle?

Salaman also doubted whether his words were appropriate and accurate.

"Salaman, you know..."

The golden eyes are now shining with plain majesty.

"...you know...the battle of Verdun in 1916 has been called all kinds of strange names by posterity." He said as he walked to the window sill, "Verdun meat grinder, Verdun slaughter grounds, execution grounds, and...hell."

The cold hand finally fell on the same cold window sill.

------------TBC------------