Literature
.:Fall:.
The flag had fallen.
Burnt and torn apart by the violence that is called war. It tears family apart, tears the very hearts out of women who lost their husbands or brothers; fathers and more. The rain washed the blood from the bodies, but did not erase it from the battlefield. The massacre casualties were uncountable, and the sight; even worse.
With the fires burning out slowly but surely, the war had come to a close. The smoke covered most of the field, yet it didn’t conceal the lifeless Italian man on his knees, right in front of an army counting thousands of soldiers, each with a gun points towards this one individual. The clinks of