Updated February 12, 2019
I look around, trying to get my bearings. I don’t recognize this place, yet it’s vaguely familiar.
There was clearly a battle, or perhaps more of an ambush; an act of terrorism. The carnage and destruction are unspeakable. The loss of innocent lives is oppressive.
At least I assume they’re innocent. There are dead bodies everywhere I look and each face I focus on looks so young. Yet they’re dressed as warriors. There are shields, and swords, and helmets scattered everywhere. The metallic smell of blood makes me gag. And the smoke from still burning fires makes me cough and my eyes water.
A movement draws my attention to a young man; he holds a dying version of his own likeness in his arms; tears are streaming down his face. I can sense the death that is taking the other.