THE NINTH NIGHT, 30 Days Has September

THE NINTH NIGHT, 30 Days Has September

I lay prone on the jungle mat of fallen leaves, fronds and smaller branches. I couldn’t tell how deep the mass under me was, although back at the hole we’d blown earlier, the jungle floor mat seemed like it was almost a foot thick. It was better than the mud. We had...
THE NINTH DAY, 30 Days Has September

THE NINTH DAY, 30 Days Has September

The rest of the night passed in mud, a penetrating mist returning to add some sort of cutting liquid thinner to the blood being sucked in by the feeding mosquitos. There was no more firing or explosions that I was aware of, as I lay in my semi-comatose state replacing real sleep.