Short Story Time
The wailing of the sirens echoed their cries of sorrow. Slowly the procession moved along, bearing forth the wooden box stained with tears. The screams of the old mingled with the sirens as they rose to the sky, thunderous to match the thunder above.
I watched under leaden skies as they inched towards the gates, the hill beyond scarred by the new graves. After fifty, I had lost count, yet the digging would continue for several more days. Each step they took seemed agony, each minute counted in millenia as they each bore their own crosses.
The rains fell, mixing with the tears and the blood on the street below. Lightning flickered in the sky as small children ran to their parents, terrified without knowing why. All they were positive of was that one of their playmates would play with them no longer.
As I looked out over this nightmare scene, I wondered for whom they cried. For the departed, as he would never get the chance to truly know life or love? For the children, and the world they would inherit? Or for themselves, for having to continue on in hell?
I watched under leaden skies as they inched towards the gates, the hill beyond scarred by the new graves. After fifty, I had lost count, yet the digging would continue for several more days. Each step they took seemed agony, each minute counted in millenia as they each bore their own crosses.
The rains fell, mixing with the tears and the blood on the street below. Lightning flickered in the sky as small children ran to their parents, terrified without knowing why. All they were positive of was that one of their playmates would play with them no longer.
As I looked out over this nightmare scene, I wondered for whom they cried. For the departed, as he would never get the chance to truly know life or love? For the children, and the world they would inherit? Or for themselves, for having to continue on in hell?