The ash rain

Thundering fighterplanes rumble. The sky bursts every thirteen seconds. The temperature increases, buildings crumble. Sirens shout, men land like a whirlwind armed with aplomb. The streets are dark, quickly filled with people. The beginning of a race under a sun of bomb…

I discover the noise of barrels, bullets breaking the barrier of the sound. Dogs bark until they lose their mind. Orgy of gunshots, they blast the bitumen. Some jump from the bridge, prefer to abandon. Families, elders, new-borns take their ultimate plongeon. Riffles scream louder than the population.

The masses hurry, scamper away and rush. The ground seems paved with corpses, a slaughter inrush. Close to me, a mother holds her kid : “hush baby, hush”. A long curled-hair infant whose chubby cheeks blush. His face disformed with grief, afraid by the flames of chaos. She goes on for a few more meters, then she stops. She holds him against her chest, takes off her necklace and give him her shining cross. She nows flees alone to avoid this killing crisscross. She leaves her weak burden behind, crying because of his mama’s loss.

My knees jam, I run again and again. I stupidly look for a way to escape my fate. I turn left when suddenly, streets turn empty and drained. No shadows, no men, not even a blood stain. I’m the only character in this frame that remains. My Lord, am I already dead ? •

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