Saturday, March 26, 2011

The Bridge

We were packed tightly against each other. Our fears and confusion rose chaotically into the wind. There was no where to go. At each end of the bridge were armed soldiers. The river below was ice cold and too shallow to allow us to plunge in. We continued whispering and calling out for friends or family. Some were down on their knees praying to God for mercy. Then we heard the first gun shot. It was answered by several more. Whispers rose to screams and chaos turned to panic. More of us were falling to our knees, our stomachs. There would be no escape, no mercy. We plunged, one by one, into our own deep river of blood.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***

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