All of us soldiers are the same, unique traits and personalities rendered irrelevant in the face of war. Every step, every turn, was freakishly accurate. Because that’s what we were trained to do. 

A sunrise greeted me, one too beautiful to be wasted on this day. Every corner, every inch, sobbing was present, not the ones found in a tower with a pretty princess, but the type that violently clawed and thrashed, voices cracking in agony.

The sun breaks free, its rays casting light upon us, as if in a fairytale. The luminance glistens off the meadow as the wistful sky lures me in. I see a red string above us, a red string of hope.

Well, you see, it all started with, “How fast can you make and detonate a bomb?”

The water engulfed me whole. Its arms wrapped around my limbs. They yanked and tore at my desperate attempt to live until I stopped thrashing. Until I gave up.

TOP CREATIVE WORK OF THE MONTH: The broken little girl who no longer had an innocent, pure heart would stay collapsed right next to her friend. But the snow saw everything and took up her offering.

TOP CREATIVE WORK OF THE MONTH AWARD: The voices start again. The cries of every sacrifice I had to make to get here. They whimper and scream, “We’re going to get you someday. Just you wait.”