Creative Screenshots - "The Man Who Walks Past Flowers: Part II" blog - Reborn:X

October 12th, A Village in the People's Republic of China, 1963.

During the show trials of the Maoist beginnings, a small rural area comes under attention for holding some of the evil people. Here, Soldier Liu experiences his first significant moment in his short, new life. The village was a collision between the old style and the new. The feverous feelings had resulted in the elders of the village being rounded up for questioning, the local defence force being recognized as hostile group and put six feet under. In this action, many of the conflicting entities can bee seen. Soldier Liu, indistinguishable frpm among the rest of his compatriots stands careful and does what his duty requires him to do. In the midst of this now common occurence, several kilometers away from this village something new is having its beginning.

Members of a newly commisioned Special Unit had donned their new special protection uniforms and are receiving field instructions from their officer. Special attention is being paid to their secrecy. The cold breeze can be felt, the space seems to hold little trepidation but a feeling of dread among the security guards attached to the Special Unit. The uniforms are tight, the cold metal containers in the trucks contrast with the wet ground and with the synthetic equipment. The officer had loosened his hat and began to inform the troops about the value of their contribution to the Party and the State today. Later on, after the speech the unit packed into their metal trucks and drove up front. With an unrecognizable emotion being seen on their faces just before departure...

This is how it all had began, initially...

T H E R E T U R N ...

October 18th, Somewhere in Central Poland, 1963.

Janusz was driving early morning in his GAZ car past a affluent neighbouring town to buy some supplies and other groceries from the nearby store. The town was quiet at this time of the day. During the drive not many people could be seen. Whereas this was a result of some military exercise of something more sinister Janusz could only ponder about it. If it would have been important. The picturesque but dirty nature of the rural area could be a major topic for a painting. If only the painters of these times would express their interest in it. Thus quietly went the routine drive from the residence and back.

At the same time, a local People's Militia garrison was alarmed about a possibile serious disturbance in the area of the abandoned factory complex. Because of the shortages, a local security element of the military garrison was sent instead to investigate the area. Right after dismounting from their BTR at the entry; a worrying situation has developed. The two guards who did the day shift in the factory complex, making sure to ward off potential looters have been gunned down. Their bodies laying down between the clean pavement and the ugly dirt road, The blood hasn't dried out so it must have been a fairly recent murder and their personal protection equipment is nowhere to be seen. Upon getting to grips with the situation, the patrol leader jumped on board the BTR and turned on the radio equipment, asking for further instructions. The objective now was to search the manufacturing space for any losses, report it and withdraw from the premises for the Militia to finish here.

What has been found in the empty space was beyond the imagination of the patrol leader. The other soldiers continued to cover their sight sectors, Until a strange, sharp noise sprung them back to the position of the patrol leader. It was later recalled after the operation that the face of the junior officer was the one a person could remember for the rest of his life...

T H E E P I L O G U E ...

October 19th, The Reckoning, Somewhere in Central Poland, 1963.

Janusz was once again on the dirt road, he had an important meeting to attend with his buddies. During the short telephone conversation back in his fancy house he could detect the urgency in the voice of one of his buddies. Therefore, it was advised to take much haste. He had to drive through a village famous for it's historical windmill, right when a local festival preparations had started. However, he was forced to an aburpt stop. The statue of the First Leader caught his attention for a second before his saw his former colleague; Officer Jerzy standing in front, looking pissed. It did not take long for the poor man to noticed that an actual tank was dugged in at the outway of the village, with the soldiers taking up firing positions. The yelling that raged few moment later could almost be heard if it wasn't for the piercing sounds of the gunfire enfilade, the deafening activation of the hand grenade by Janusz before he was pulverized. The true facts and the whole story indeed might never be heard of or seen again. Neither by the soldiers of the local garrison who were there as the recovering programme prohibited that. Neither by the local townsfolks of the vicinity as their story is a amalgation of different myths and hearsays that not a serious journalist would consider an information worth mentioning. Yet, there is something more in the story...

The main protagonist woke up, shivering with cold in the middle of a road with white Winter being only seen around. Look back, only endless white could be seen and a green truck in the middle of the road. Something made him think not to go back, do not go in the truck, do not seek an easy road back or perhaps a salvation. Moving forward, the road was flanked by identical statues of the First Leader everywhere, all pointing the same way, all with the same unrecognizable expression. He walked forward, hoping to find out death or finally an answer to this all.

Before him was only a black abyss, nothing more, complete blackness. Horrified but determined, the only option was to jump in it, find the solution. Submerge in the explanations or die trying. Engulf by the black abyss; he saw short flashes of photographs and images from the history. They looked modern, Eastern like or even Soviet. Upon his last moments a monolith of images flashed in front of him, revealing the entire modern Soviet history and it's tragedies and farces before him. That was the end of the man who walked past flowers...