BOMBARDED
Contorted bodies writhing in a silent scream rested in the forgotten grass fields that moved in steady waves. There was something about it, their movement synchronized, yet independent, their hues so close and unique. And while they danced in that way, came the song of crickets and the chirps of a flock of birds content to be washed by the gentle rain. The lull that came after hours of intensive fighting was a magnificent sight that few were able to mesmerize. Taking full advantage of the situation, some students took off their helmets and placed them aside for the rain to wash away the dirt and blood from their faces, along with the sins they had committed. Although this would’ve been a sound justification, it was mostly to catch some precious water for their dried-out throats, as i
- Writer
