by Lazlo Ferran
Chapter One
The little voice asked, after peering out of another portal at an earlier moment in his life, “Is it possible to time travel for I perceive that I can?”
“Only after you leave this life,” said a voice, high and mighty.
Then the little voice changed its tone for it was angry. “But that’s not fair! For, the one thing I wish I can’t have.”
“Until you leave this life,” said the high voice.
“Yes.”
“Then now you can see advantages to moving beyond this life you have.”
And the little voice perceived that all his previous angers, about matters of the flesh and daily living were not proper angers. A proper anger is the anger that desirable things lay beyond the portal of death. And so from that moment on his struggles to survive, to fight against the current, seemed improper to him and yet he could not help himself.
Two of the Ionian Militia sat on top of Przeltski, ripping his helmet off, while another aimed his laser at his eyes. In the vacuum of Io’s atmosphere, Przeltski was mouthing the words, ‘save me’ but it was too late. I knew I couldn’t and had to try and save myself. I was turning to get away but I could still see his eyes half closing, then looking up and his mouth rapidly shaping the words of the ‘Hail Mary.’ The IM would turn their lasers down to the lowest setting and first shoot out the eyes, then take off the arms and if he was lucky then they would aim for his heart. If he was not lucky, the dismemberment could go on and on for as long as they wanted. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t. I struggled and struggled and then I was awake and knew it was the nightmare.
