Flash Fiction

Unbroken sunlight wove its spell. The thronged crowd grew its voice to greet the new known hero and the flimsy fanfare brought them to a climax. Their voice echoed from the crumbling colonnades and the glistening marble façades of the ancient square. As the hero appeared on the beleaguered balcony, the crowd fell hushed, impressed by his greatness. Across the imposed quiet his voice took on an importance beyond that of the slightness of his stature. The hero was belligerent, they were awed. The hero said he would rebuild, and they were his tools. The hero spoke of a new beginning and they admitted their assent.

Unanimity always includes an exception. In the heart of the square and in the heart of the crowd the exception was thrown. He listened but showed nought of the crowds approval. It was clarity itself if you cared to look closely, but none ever did, that he was not as one with the all. His name was Laden Braun and he was the brother of the new found hero and he knew what was wrong. Beads, like kaleidoscope dreams, fell from his sweating brow. Deep in the pocket of his pale uneasy overcoat he fingered the safety of the small automatic weapon, an irritant about to be expunged. He chewed vigorously on an already masticated lip. Small drips of blood melded with the sweat.

The hero and the brother were known to each other no longer in the sibilant way but in their guilt. Guilt for the crime that led them here, stumbling through the ruin of their self imposed destruction. Bells of confusion ringing through the ancient square and the constant struggle with the guilt bringing them both to this. The hero, whose name was Karel Braun, ranted coherently from the balcony, the brother stared at the sky, thinking in the past. Sucking in his breath and bloody spittle the brother took the step. And after the thronged crowd in the crumbling square once again fell hushed two brothers were reunited.