Remnants of war

Gun shots were heard everywhere, the land was stained red. Blood covered the ground, a small encounter between British soldiers and the Nazis left the air smelling of burned flesh and death. Cries of wounded men were heard miles away, cries of men still fighting from the grasp of Death's arms. It was a murky afternoon, the sky was painted red back then. The sun looked pale, smeared with a little black, large clouds of smoke rose from the ground. Even though the battle was over sounds of dying men still filled the air.

The date was 30th of May1942, three years before Hitler committed suicide and a day before the bombing of Cologne. War tore apart Germany--houses were destroyed, families were broken, sadness was everywhere. A small town was just attacked by British soldiers, a small boy was the only survivor. He was told by his father to hide and never come out no matter what. He obediently obeyed and hid under his bed. Moments pass and he heard a few screams, ear splitting screams. He heard his father pleading to someone, that was the first time he heard his father cry, it was also the last time. A loud voice came from an unknown speaker. "Kill them," the speaker said. He did not understood what it meant, it probably was English, his father knew English. His father continued to plead some more, now joined by the voice of his mother, then loud noises came from somewhere, or something. The air was filled with a burning scent, his father had stopped pleading, his parents remained silent. He did not realized it then but tears were streaming down his eyes. He waited till the men left. As he came out from under his bed he saw the body of his dead parents, his father shielding his mother before they were both shot to death. "Papa?" The little boy once full of innocence and ignorance tried to wake his dead father; confusion gripped his ignorant mind. He wondered why Papa was not moving, and why he was covered with sticky, red stuff. Outside the cries of other survivors filled the air--blood flowed down the street, bodies were everywhere. The boy gripping the hand of his teddy bear sat beside his dead parents crying.

After many years the little boy now an old man of 70, sits on a bench watching his grandchildren play. A little girl slowly approaches him. "Grandpa come play with us," the little girl reminded him of his childhood, full of dreams and ignorance. He smiled to the girl an empty smile. The year is now 2007, the Fuhrer was defeated long ago and now Germany is peaceful. The old man follows his grandchild, smiling, but deep inside his heart he'll forever be that little kid holding his stuff animal, dried tears glued on his cheeks, and eyes robbed of innocence in exchange of fear. A little kid that will forever be on that red, stained, sky afternoon of May 30 1942.