It is early morning.
Smoke sets the scene,
rising from the ground like the emergence of ghosts

ready to tell their tales

of battle
of cries
of thousands of pointlessly lost lives.
The soldiers refuse to listen

they are tired
tired of being controlled
tired of abusive power


tired of unmet requests
The king needs to learn

this country deserves better.

A battle cry sounds
from a young, charismatic leader
“smash the oppressor

make an uproar from his blood!
Spit on the tyranny
and all it has done to us!”
Hands quake

anticipation.

The signal flashes
A shot fires


A scream in the distance
A man lies on the ground.

Broken,

Helpless

Knowing he will die unknown,

another casualty of battle
Thoughts are racing

What have I done?
“I can’t see a thing through this damn smoke!”
“Hold your fire!”

A pause
A break
Hearts beat wildly
Will we die today?


A barely heard cry from the royal army

Revolutionaries prepare,


Battle stances are made,
feet implanted firmly in the muddy ground
Looking for signs from the other side

A pause
a break

The sound of explosive guns

pierce the cool, quiet air.
Shots fire blindly


hitting any soldier they can
Men scream


Revolution pays a price
Power is not free.

Blood

Blood Everywhere

It has begun.