Kaliq knew that he was closing the door of the factory for the very last time. He turned and looked at Jemelda, and the tears running down her cheeks. Don’t cry my love, it was fated to be so. We will build a better bigger factory in the next world.
As the masked soldiers led them away Kaliq saw mountains encased in a overarching deep blue. Look Jemelda, our lord smiles for us.
Kaliq looked at the soldiers, one had the pale skin common to Northern Europeans. Did she understand Kaliq’s refusal to produce ammunition for her terrorist brethren.
Footnote: I expect to have limited access to the internet for a short period, so my replies to readers comments may be slow. But please comment, I am pleased to understand how my flash fiction comes over.