The swift bullet pierced the woven thread known as flesh, simple strands of muscle falling limp, snapping as if it were string in the path of the tyrant. Crimson red blood gushed out of the wound as the bullet continued its path, ripping through the arteries covering the pumping heart. A simple thump later, the bullet left the body. Within mere seconds, the body collapsed, the only blood flow left from the corpse being those from the punctured holes. Bombs disintegrated all around the battlefield, the rest of the assault team being wiped out almost immediately as a shower of bullets rained upon them from all directions. Attempt to escape was futile; there was no way out.

 

Weeks flew past, no contact was made. Life continued as normal, birds sang their songs of love, babies crying their hearts out and the wind howling. A compact, black car pulled up the drive-way ever so slowly, the windows tinted black as to disable view within. The door open steadily as a dark boot hit the ground. Time seemed to stop a a deafening silence corrupted the neighbourhood. The once surreal area was now but a graveyard to the living. Step after dreadful step, the formally dressed sergeant got closer to the house. In his hand he held a flag, neatly crafted into the shape of a triangle, the stars of the US flag tucked into specific places on the azure background. Each taken step felt like as if he were trying to walk through a swamp. He had done this hundreds of times, none so emotionally attached to him as this one. This was his brother in arms, they had done so much together yet a simple bullet separated them. If only he had gone to that assault with him, they may have made a better path to go through and thus survived. As he arrived to the door he slowly yet with a shaking hand, extended to the door-bell, pressing the small white button. Within seconds, a small boy, roughly the age of 8 popped his head out of the corner of the door. After seeing the man, which he recognised as one of his father's Colleague, he crept outside. The older man slowly went to one knee, holding the flag out to the boy as if an offering. As the child reached out for the object, the man said, "I'm so sorry. Y-your father is no longer with us." Within a paroxysm of tears, the boy fell to the ground. By now the rest of the neighbourhood had come to the house, fully grown males mainly covering the area in the shape of a circle. A single girl, roughly in her late 20's ran to his side, trying to comfort him as he collapsed to the ground. Tears as if streams flowing from his eyes. Pain being turned into matter in the shape of tears. The girl hugged him, holding the boy tightly to her body as they symmetrically cried. By this time, the soldier had gotten up and left, not even glancing back. Under his black tinted glasses, tears had started to swell and ready to pour.