Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

The rain punched holes in my trenchcoat, and that’s where it got in. The war raged on for weeks, until red sores opened up in the land. We sat like gargoyles, scouting for movement or the flash of a muzzle. The only sound was that of the rain, as our guns were perfectly silent. We found out who had fallen at the end of the day and that was that. The battle was ended not because any side won, but because no man’s land sprouted hellishly red toadstools over the corpses, and we started finding it on our skin too.