Still Waters

[Anonymous]

Chains, heavy and tight, bit into the prisoner. The bleeding sores. The constant agony. Every now and then, the screams of other prisoners would enter the cell from outside. It was dark and the prisoner did not know what time of day it was. That was the purpose of this prison. There had been once a time it had been him who sent his enemies to such cells. And now, he lay wasting away in that very same place.

The lock clicked and the heavy door opened. "Who's there?" the wretched prisoner asked, barely able to recognize his own voice.

"Why, you've really let yourself go, brother." The click of his heel on the cement floor echoed in the emptiness of the cell. The prisoner was too weak to do anything but recoil further into himself. "I hope you've been thinking about all the wrongs you did by me. Who could have ever thought you'd face your end like this?"

 

[Anonymous]

Since the destruction of the Kingdom in the West, true Occitan Cathar men had been pulling away from the camps and refugee centers and finding refuge in the small groups of insurgents that had established themselves in the countryside, hiding in the dense forests and in the unforgiving mountains. They had their rifles and their old grenades. They had made good use of the bunkers that the old Occitan army had established in the mountains. So far the Serenien military had not bothered them, high and undisturbed these valiant men sat, welcoming other disaffected Cathar believers.

"Once again the Cathar Cross shall reign again," they sang in cold nights. Once again, indeed.

 

[Anonymous]

After the singing, the camp was quiet. The men were dozing or conversing in soft voices or simply watching one of the fires burn bright in the darkness. One of the men got up for a piss. After his business was completed, he strolled. In the bright moonlight, away from the camp, the mountains were beautiful. The sight brought back memories of hiking and camping, both as a boy with his papa and as the papa with his son. Tears started to stream at the memories of loved ones now gone ... brutally cut down by those Godless bastards. They will pay!

 

[Anonymous]

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I take a look at my life and realize there's not much left
'Coz I've been blastin' and laughin' so long, that
Even my mama thinks that my mind is gone
But I ain't never crossed a man that didn't deserve it
Me be treated like a punk you know that's unheard of
You better watch how you're talkin', and where you're walkin'
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk
I really hate to trip but I gotta, loc
As I grow I see myself in the pistol smoke, fool
I'm the kinda G the little homies wanna be like
On my knees in the night, sayin' prayers in the streetlight...

I am only here to pose. I am a mannequin. Why am I here? I was placed here. Those godless bastards will pay. We shout. We laugh. We cry. I don’t know why. I am not from here. I was placed here. I walk on a path to cleanse this land. I don’t care about this land. Only I know where I am from. Only I know my mission. For now, I’ll shout, I’ll laugh, I’ll cry.

 

[Furlanìe]

"Bâl e Pièri a ğèstre, Tino e Ğân par là, Frèdi cun me, copàiu duç ğhavât un"

Hided by the darkness of the night and the thunderous rain, the Friulian soldiers moved silently around an old building that functioned as a cocaine storing facility, deep in the Occitanian side of the Barimàgne mountain range.

"Bâl in posisiòn"
"Tino in posisiòn"
"Sargènt al è, bersàis son sièt, lasàit: le maette rosse... ohp ohp!"

The windows exploded, and five of the seven people inside the building, that were chatting peacefully, where killed almost instantly, a moment of silence, one of the two survivors started to shoot with his gun in the darkness but was soon taken down by another volley from the soldiers, carefully avoiding to hit the second guy in a colourful red shirt; as the soldiers held fire another time, the man run at the door in the back of the building, and to a nearby mountain path, where he hid behind some rocks.
An incendiary hand grenade was thrown into the building, burning the drugs and the corpses, the light from the fire made the soldiers visible for a moment.

"Sargènt al è, dispiàrdisi"

The soldiers started to retreat back into the darkness, keeping an aye to the rocks where the terrified survivor was hiding.

 

[Serenierre]

The Serenien military outpost heard the frenetic activity and the unmistakable sounds of gunfire in the distance where the insurgents were undoubtedly located. The forward check posts radioed it into their command. Most probably when the sun would be up a helicopter would be dispatched to monitor the area.

In this part of Occitania, far from the Protectoral Government, the insurgents had dug in and lived in a strange anarchic state. Often they would fight and such sounds were not uncommon along the length of the mountains. However, given the close proximity of the Friulian border, the sounds merited further investigation. Until then, stand firm was the order. In the distance, the glow of a fire burnt bright in the dark.

Thankfully, the wind was blowing south into East Occitania — whatever that fire was, it stank!