39. We are all beasts.

I haven’t left my cabin for nine hours, now.

The shadows have grown longer and longer at the portholes, and the sun has set. Every time I pluck up the courage to leave my cabin, I hear a scream, or some other sign that the game has begun in earnest, and I can’t go out there.   There were gunshots earlier.  I’m pretty sure my umbrella will offer no effective defence against a bullet, no matter how artistically I wave it.

So much for our group’s conscientious solidarity – we have the heart and soul of beasts.

Sisyphus, this is Hell.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *