THE SPOILS OF WAR By Simon It was a warm sunny evening in North Belfast not a cloud in the sky just a pleasant breeze blowing the young ginger girls curly long hair as she stands alone practicing with her new hoolahoop, as the plastic green ring twirls around her plump tiny hips she hadn't got a care in the World . Opposite the row of shabby council flats a drunken 19 year old short Scotsman staggers out of the local drinking hole after spending his weeks pay gambling on cards and drinking ale . He looks up at the young pure innocent child with one thought in his head. His combat trousers stained with piss and loneliness barely able to contain his primal urges. The jackal slowly advances on his prey and smiles to himself . . To be continued.........
A smile curled at the corners of his mouth as he stared at her with his cold, expressionless eyes. It was then that she realised she would be sodomised before dawn.
The young girl shrieked in horror as the Invading British soldier advanced towards her , she dropped the hoolahooop to the floor running as fast as she could towards her rusty Raleigh Chopper . The terrified child grasped the curved handlebars and placed her right sandal on the peddle but nothing happened. The chain had come off. Tbc
Unbeknown to the hapless squaddie, the infant was wearing a bulletproof vest that had been left to her by her late uncle Podraig. As his pulsating throbber glistened in the moonlight, he fled the scene with haste lest he was pursued. He arrived back to his barracks to find no less than twenty Dominos meat feast pizzas waiting for him. As if the night couldn't get any worse, they were stone cold.
Full of lust, the young private regarded the window. Shapes moved behind the net curtains; the girl was in her room, home alone. No doubt she was trying on the training bra her mother had taken her to buy that day. The soldier remembered the youthful colour of her cheeks, the twinkle in her eyes as child and parent left the high street shop. Neither had known that their every move was being watched by the British Army's finest sniper, a man who'd shot more of their countrymen than he cared to remember. Silently the soldier moved, slipping through the back gate and crossing the yard as his ears strained for telltale signs of alarm. A cat hissed from atop a crumbling brick wall; an owl welcomed the twilight with a hoot. But the house was quiet. Once inside, the private made his way upstairs, excitement overcoming caution. His passion was killed, however, by the sight that awaited in the girl's bedroom. Young Siobhan was slain, brutally so. For a moment, the youthful squaddie - barely nineteen himself - was mesmerised by the gaping wound across the girl's white throat and the rich blood on the virgin bedclothes. Tears came to his eyes as he contemplated the violation, the destruction of young life. It was at that moment, as Dev stared upon the child's vacant face, that he made a decision: he was to be a protector, not a predator. Shaking his head, the detective extinguished his hashish joint and dismissed the memory. He opened the bottom drawer of his bureau and retrieved the foolscap file that had once been his life. Hands shaking, he leafed through the documents, smiling wryly as if he were perusing family photographs. 'I will find you, Maddie,' he said. 'I will keep my promise.'
Private Provan made his way back to the barracks. He confided in his old chum, Twizz, of his crisis of conscience. After a 2 hour heart to heart, they ended the night in the way they both had become acustomed to, climaxing in each others mouth whilst fisting a young Ciaran Ardoyne in the arse. Chapter 2 coming soon
