We were trained to hit, not just shoot. It sounds cruel, but we’re taught to kill seamlessly in a shot without feeling the slightest guilt. Whichever side a soldier is on- America, Russia, China, or Syria- we always believed we’re on the right side. We have to. And by the time we stepped behind our enemy’s line, we’re bound to kill or be killed.
So there we were, moving stealthily along empty houses where our foes, reportedly, hide. It only took one noise before the firing started. It lasted for only thirty-three minutes but it felt like a lifetime. Dead men lay sprawled out and crooked in the mud. Victory was on our side.
Or so we thought.
Amidst the mutilated corpses, stood a howling dog; its cry was haunting. I drew nearer to find it licking a dead woman’s face. There were children in there, too.
I walked as far away from that killing ground. The dog, to my surprise, followed my scent. Filled with guilt, I kneeled to meet its eyes, “Forgive me.”
Word Count: 175
Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. I’ve known from the moment I saw the photo prompt from pixabay that it would probably entail a heartbreaking story from most of us. So here I am, joining the band.
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