The frigorific ice cracked open beneath his filthy naked feet; plunging the boy into the freezing waters below.
`Help somebody! Help me please.`
He could see the solider, clad only in khaki shorts, crawl on his stomach toward him, tentatively, clutching a rifle between his chattering broken teeth.
The boy's eyelashes began to solidify, frozen crystals forming on the unkempt strands of his saturated hair.
`Please help me, please…`
The solider inched ever closer, ever nearer to the struggling boy. Only yards away, he pulled the rifle from between his blue lips and thrust it toward him. There was no communication; no need, the silent manoeuvre explained everything.
The boy reached out for the tip of the weapon, his fingers frantically scraping the bitter solidified mass on which the gun lay. His anesthetised hand unable to clutch the only thing; the only item which remained between life and certain death.
The solider pulled the rifle back and again flung it forward toward the floundering gasping head.
Like a swatted maniacal fly, the boy made one final frenzied attempt, one terminal exhausted effort to grasp the glistening bayonet.
Cheek pressed firmly into the glaciated covering, the soldier lay. Breathless, sobbing, bleeding snapped nails ripping deep disjointed fissures into the gelid arctic surface...
...the figorific ice cracked open beneath his filthy naked feet; plunging the boy into the freezing waters below.
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