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Leith
PostPosted: Wed May 28, 2014 5:07 am   Reply with quote



Joined: 30 Mar 2013
Posts: 857

The blood. There was so much of it. It dripped from the walls and pooled on the floor, it coated everything in a coppery stick that smeared. The heat from outside was making it dry fast and all the boy could do was sit there numb, dead center amidst the carnage. Flies buzzed, he looked down at his hands, he was covered in it too. His mother was mostly intact, her front at least, she’d died covering him with her body. The soldiers missed him, though he had wounds too, nothing vital was hit. His father was hacked to pieces, so were his older brothers. The house was a mess, his mother was always so meticulous, there would be no one who could clean now.

He was just ten. Only a child, his whole world suddenly laid to waste. Eventually he stood up, staring down at himself, he was soaked and oozing blood himself. His wounds hurt, making him sob, standing had made them feel like fire, like getting them all again. He stumbled outside and stared, people lay in the streets hacked to bits and dead or clutching their limbs, stomachs, dying. Buildings were on fire and screams could still be heard, but he saw that the sky was still blue. Everything was splattered with red, but the sky wasn’t, no one had made it bleed to turn it red.

He saw the neighbor’s dog, cut in half not too far away. He always liked that dog, the blood on its teeth said he’d probably bit something, he got to fight back at least. He rubbed his face, wincing, there was a cut on his cheek and the cut on his shoulder ached too. He saw something move and he shied back into the house, people could mean danger or worse. The bedroom didn't seem to be bloody, he hid there, they'd all been having dinner. He remembered the thunder of the horses and the screams, he started to cry, burying his face in his hands. Dead. His whole family was dead. The whole village was probably dead, it didn't make sense.

Eventually he fell asleep, shock and crying himself into exhaustion. When next he woke up it was dark and everything was way too quiet. He pulled the blanket around himself, his wounds had oozed and dried. He knew he couldn't stay, but he couldn't think of anywhere to go, his neighbor was probably dead. It wouldn't be long till people came to pick over what was left, though he didn't know what would happen to him if he was found. Didn't his father say that boys who left the house at night get caught by slavers? Would that be what happens? He missed his papa, missed his mama too, he missed them all. What would happen to him now? Would he die too and join them? Would he see them again?

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