Yellow fog has created a perimeter around the forest. The Captain approaches the edge, where the trees meet the field and form a line. Fog seeps out slowly, like spores. The fog enters his lungs. He heaves, and coughs. He puts on his mask. He inhales, as deeply as he can, to calm the anxiety. He looks around. He sees yellow wood, a moon that is yellow, and a yellow rabbit.
With the mask on he is frightening. He is an alien bounty hunter. A frozen, smiling, military recruit, exquisitely preserved in a photograph the color of amber.
He reaches out with his arms and gropes. He stumbles and scratches his leg. He inhales, as deeply as he can. The moonlight filters through the fog and it is a silver slice. The color of mustard. The colors of the earth seem to him like they are no longer distinct. You learn them as a child, he says, but they're all the same. Yellow and green and silver are light. They're just light.
He breathes deeply. The pain is making noises. It is tapping on the wood. A million tapping knuckles, softly cracking. He sees shadows in the fog but he can't make out their shape or purpose. He reaches for his pistol. They scatter.
In the distance there is a yellow fire.
In the distance, there is a little girl, washing her fingernails in a stream. She cleans them one by one. She pick at them until they are gleaming white. She sits down on the bank of the stream and she sighs. She gathers her dolls, their glass eyes holding the light of the trees, their hair yellow mixed with dirt.
In the distance. The Captain clutches his mask.
[ The Knife - the captain ] by n66x
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