WeWriWa—White-hot rage

Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. I’m now sharing from Chapter 45, “Imre’s Revenge,” of my hiatused WIP The Strongest Branches of Uprooted Trees.

It’s November 1945, and Imre has stayed behind in Budapest instead of being smuggled into Italy with his girlfriend Csilla and their friends. He’s determined to perform some modern Herculean labors, starting with going to Csilla’s hometown Abony to recover important possessions she hid last year.

The gendarme who now owns Csilla’s house, Mr. Mészáros, has discovered Imre in the cellar, and is adamant the unearthed valuables are now his property. Imre, however, insists he’s bringing them back to their rightful owner. If Mr. Mészáros refuses, Imre will tell the occupying Soviets a former Arrow Cross officer is in their midst.

War command to the armed nation!
Courtesy FOTO:Fortepan/Lissák Tivadar

“My girlfriend is on her way to Italy, far away from people like you. She doesn’t know I’m doing this.” Imre advanced towards him. “How would you feel if someone tortured you with electrical wires and foot-flogging?”

“But I’m not the criminal of an inferior race.”

Imre pushed Mr. Mészáros against the nearest wall, blinded by rage, and began punching him over and over again, like an unrestrained wild animal. He’d never punched anyone before, but there was a first time for everything. In his white-hot rage, he wasn’t aware of anything else, and didn’t know if Mr. Mészáros were saying anything or fighting back. Imre only became aware of his surroundings again when he slammed his fist into the brick wall and immediately felt a sharp, intense, throbbing pain. He looked down, and saw Mr. Mészáros on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth and nose.