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Annoying Rooster

My Thoughts, by Toan Orumov

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A neatly written folded piece of paper protected inside of a wrinkled old check book, kept in Toan's possessions wherever the man traversed. A photograph above would be pinned against the letter by a small paper clip.

"I haven't really wrote one of these before, but this is for whoever finds this. It's my own futile attempt to try and be remembered in this apocalyptic world if the day comes where I come to meet with God, and that someone will see this.

There's a lot of insanity in this world we all became accustomed to. The violence that'd bled through the victims has made us all numb to the soul. It'd taken its toll on my health, leaving me with a sense of post traumatic stress. I even make great attempts now to avoid speaking in a Chernarussian accent, but more or less a mid-western American like in the old cheesy western films from the sixties. I loved those so much.

I remembered, being a trader with my brother, and how we were put on our knees by a group of Horsemen as they executed us. I survived the gunshot to the head, for better or worse. But I spent the night in the woods, bleeding and holding the body of my twin brother as I cried in agony undisturbed. Not even the bears were interested in tampering with a broken man. God, I've got tears dripping on the paper just thinking about that.

I carried the weight for twelve hours when I found a group of youthful people calling themselves 'The Last Light'. It really seemed that way. The likes of Faith Capella, Casper, and.. I can't even remember their names, but they took me in their warm embrace and helped me heal. We blossomed and I became something again as I gathered my bearings, not alone in this world.

All good stories came to an end, and I was alone again after many unfortunate circumstances. I don't know what happened to any of them. Things only got worse when I was attacked by Chernarussian Nationalists for reasons I couldn't even comprehend. They said I was a traitor, or some bullshit. There, I'd reluctantly moved myself to become a radio operator of the 'Free Territory' communist guerilla group. It's something I'll regret for the rest of my life, but I did what I had to do to stay alive and I gave them a hundred and ten percent. They were protecting me, I was inclined to do the same.

When we disbanded after taking too many casualties and the death of our leader, I was left drifting again. I became a trader once more, donning my mid-western accent. I started to embrace the insanity that floated across the landscape like a tidal wave. I hold on to what remains of my identity the best I can recollect, and press on forward. I want to try and bring some good into the world with what little time I have left, before my demise comes. 

Life has become so cheap, it isn't even worth crying over the lost of loved ones anymore. God how I miss the way things used to be. Nothing to worry about besides school or paying the bills. My mom and dad.. mom and dad, I haven't thought about them in a long time. I wonder where they are now, probably dead.. I shouldn't get hopeful about things.

I just wish this misery would come to an end, and that things will get better. But the longer I think about this, the worse I become. I can't think about it now, all I have to do is try and bring some good to this god forsaken world. God forgive me and all the wrong I've ever done, I just want things to be the way they once were."


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