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Spin-off - a large blood

The first time he saw the blood on the snow, Ajax was ten years old. He had a lot of snow this winter and the village children had fallen close to the river to make a snowball fight with those near the village. One of his countrymen, could not remember exactly who had packed a snowball with a content over the ice and had shot straight on the nose of Biagio, the butcher's son. He had never gone to the place of everything.
The boys of his own country if they decamped to their heels, while Blaise was bleeding and screaming like a pig, holding his nose. Ajax had been a moment more, staring fascinated with the blood dripping on the snow. Remember feeling a sense of unreality. It looked fake, too red, with shades of pink, too bright, as if someone had accidentally spilled land of grenadine syrup.
Even now that the blood was his, Ajax could not shake off that feeling of unreality. On his knees in the snow, while the great drops that fell off from her chin to fall on the white blanket smoking. Either dig a small hollow in the snow with its heat. Drip ... Drip ...
time seems frozen, like everything else on the plateau. Ajax did not feel pain, although it was vaguely aware that he had, seemed strangely muffled and sounds as if he had cotton in his ears, but could see everything very clearly and equity.
His buddy Sergio turned towards him in slow motion, eyes wide, and shouted something but did not catch, then a shell exploded a short distance, casting a shower of splinters and sharp around the world returned to normal speed. Sounds
comeback to flood his perception, the thunder of big guns, the loud sound of bullets whistling and smaller cut through the air, the screams and curses of the wounded.
Ajax and his fellow platoon ran like crazy through no man's land, scattering on the ground to avoid being hit all at once from a possible grenade holes and climbing over barbed wire. Every time I stopped, crouched in the muddy snow, the machine gunners unleashed a storm of bullets on the enemy. Once in a few tens of meters from the enemy trenches (They were so close that they saw the whites of the eyes of Kaiserjaeger when they protruded from the trench to fire), and took the safe to hand grenades, firecrackers Thevenot, and rushed into the Austrian trenches.

The left side of his face was encrusted with something sticky, but he took no notice.

The enemy soldiers were earthen and Ajax seemed to be kids and knew that his hand was like that: they were tired, half frozen, hungry and terrified. Without training, they could only hope to get by and have a fear of crowds and all-pervasive. The war was a scam for all sides.

When he volunteered, he never imagined it would end like this. He thought the war would not last long, at most up to Christmas, and would bring positive changes for the people. Instead, three after birth, the very people died in the trenches, while the usual enriched themselves with the military orders and individual freedoms were suppressed in the name of the Fatherland.
And he was stuck in that carnage, they can only choose whether to fear or become what others were afraid. The faces of too young Austrian soldier he understood what had been his choice.
grenades, the Arditi spear guns, the dear old Villar Perosa nicknamed "fart", and jumped into the enemy trench with daggers between their teeth.
What happened next was a confused memory for Ajax with blood, screams and gunshots. At one point, a hissing sound, like the breath of a dragon with asthma, and the smell of kerosene had announced the arrival of the platoon with the flamethrower and the screams had risen in tone.
But in the end the trench had been conquered. They reached the infantry to occupy the position of his platoon and the guys started to relax Arditi, posing as a pack of cigarettes. It was only then, when a recruit who was not yet eighteen years have stopped to stare aghast, Ajax that he realized he had lost his ear and began to feel pain.

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Spin-off - The taste of revenge

This story also appeared on website forum www.labarriera.net , on the occasion of the 12th contest of writing. Theme: eat (in all its meanings)

affixed to the roof of the convent of the Dominicans, Raymond sniffed the night air. From there, Toulouse smelled of rain and Christmas cakes. The kitchens of the monastery bustles with activity in those days. Cinnamon, honey, candied fruit ... Hmm ...
one time this would smell the mouth-watering, but now, although there were days that we had not felt nothing, except a little 'homesick. As a faithful before consolament , the sacrament of the Good Christians, like the old days of Limoux, Raymond had fasted for the company. Hunger gripped the bowel, but most of all was the sense of emptiness that brought in the death of Alienor to devour. He had searched for all, one by one, the men who were there that night, but that feeling continues to consume gradually, eroding his sanity, erasing any feelings except hatred and guilt and transforming its existence in a desperate hunt continues and. After each killing, that vacuum is quiet, satisfied at the moment, but it never lasted. Sooner or later it was beginning to devour the soul and he was forced to return to seek, to hunt, to find other victims to placate him.
Brother Aymeric was the last, and was the one who had inflicted the deepest wound of his soul. Maybe his death would all be over. Perhaps the emptiness inside of him would disappear.
Sighing, Raymond let himself down from the roof of the porch that surrounded the cloister. Everything was silent. The renegade knight walked along a corridor on both sides face the simple cells of the monks. He walked silently as a shadow in the dim light of torches and red arranged at regular intervals along the walls.
arrived at the library door, hesitated a moment with Raymond hand on the knob. From the crack between the door and swing a blade of filtered light. Someone still studied, despite the late hour, as it had always been the custom of the ambitious Aymeric. The memory, anger and hunger was burning inside. He turned the handle firmly and went inside. As he was told his informants and how he imagined, Aymeric was there and swung around to the sound of the door opening.
"Who's there?" Called Inquisitor, alarmed. He was alone.
Hidden in the dark, with black cloak and hood up, Raymond Le Maur was little more than a shadow among shadows. He stepped forward, entering the circle of light cast by torches and lowered the hood. The Inquisitor
pale face became ashen. Aymeric's eyes widened and started to scream, but Raymond moved lightning, thrown at him. He shook his throat with a mighty hand and had him hitting the wall. The dramatic impact against the wall the inquisitor forced to exhale the air his lungs with a groan. Aymeric closed his eyes, perhaps lost consciousness for a while, but then managed to find the strength to launch a scorching look at his opponent. "I was almost able to kill the son of the devil ..." managed to croak in a voice filled with contempt. Raymond shook stronger the throat of the Dominican. The void in his soul awakened to its full fury.
The Inquisitor trying to appear strong, but under the smell of ink and wax candles, Raymond felt the acrid stench of his fear, a smell that once would have disgusted, but now the intoxicated. Alone and without guards, Aymeric was helpless. It was his prey. Hunger was now strong enough to make him turn his head, was too long since I ate. Aymeric
from that slimy snake that was noticed and took the opportunity to try to take something hidden in the folds of black and white habit. Snarling, Raymond made him bang his head against the wall strong enough to leave a bloody stain on the bricks and he lost his grip. A vial of holy water broke at his feet.
Raymond moved his gaze from the broken vial Inquisitor semi-unconscious and smiled, showing his fangs. "This is for Alienor and the Cathars who have hung in Limoux." He murmured.
Blood inquisitor was bitter as gall to terror, but Raymond sipped the last drop, tasting like a fine wine, until he heard his heart stopped rotten. The feeling of warmth and power that pervaded was stronger than usual, strong enough to do so falls to the ground beside the body, trembling with the excitement, as a mujahideen intoxicated hashish. Aymeric beside him staring at the ceiling with dull eyes.
Raymond chuckled as if slightly tipsy. It was worth the wait, to fast, to enjoy the best revenge. His hunger was satisfied, finally filled the void. He felt at peace, but for how long?