An_Tran_Thai

Tattered shrapnel rings in the distance. The ashes of man's sin cannot be washed down with alcohol nor holy water. We who murder shall live in the suffering we have caused. Indeed, it is so.
Somewhere near, a man who has used up his life looks down a pile of ash. The clouds are ignorant of all that was. The man sighs. The sky blinks, to dust he becomes. And so forth is the cycle of blood. He remembers, but perhaps it does not matter. Another leaves into purgatory. The doctor can only pray that fate have mercy.

Table of Burning Ashes

Table of contents

Volume 1