Blood That Shames the Red, Red Rose

“Are you sending me home, ma’am?” he asked, coughing into the damp air, the violent movement sent a fresh flood of claret to struggle against the haphazard field dressing.

“Yes, soldier, you’re going home,” I sighed in contempt, signaling to our radio man to order the medevac to grant this boy the illicit dignity of losing his final breath on American soil.

Author: Guilliean Pacheco

Filipina adjacent. Cinéphile. (Bad) Feminist. INFJ. Mélomaniacal. Polymath. Raconteuse. Tsundoku.

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