A short, some might say poetic, story. Please do indulge yourself in listening to my reading to the right of this text.
Grey. I could feel the grey. I looked up and I saw the grey. I could feel stones underneath me. Stones not big enough to hurt but stones still small enough to feel.
My clothes were dusted, completely covered in grey. What was the cause of this? War. I could see the sky above me, the rubble around me.
I could see a hole in the wall just across from me, too small to see through. I lay there in shock with my back against the wall. I didn't know what to do.
I moved, slowly... but I moved. I grabbed the wall to my left and pulled myself up. The wall that was once so tall yet was now half dismantled. As I fully stood up, and extended my legs to what they could muster, I felt the breeze of the wind against my face... my hair flutter about.
I looked across the city with the smoke and the grey everywhere, buildings demolished and houses ruined. People. I saw the people. I fell to the floor.
Those people made me cry. I shed tears. Tears not big enough to hurt but still small enough to feel. I could shout but that would require someone to listen, so I just cried... on my own, in loneliness. Grey.
I started to get hungry now, but I knew that hunger was the least of my worries. I needed to get out of here. All I could hear was the crackling of fire and the falling of bricks and the breaking... the breaking of lives and civilisation.
War. This is what war does.
Why me? Why am I the one alive? I took refuge in the churches tower. But now? Now it didn't look like a church tower at all. The wind suddenly changed direction and a load of smoke blew into my face.
I coughed. Red. I could see red now, on my hands. The hands that I had coughed into. Blood. I was bleeding, internally... obviously!? Of course I was!? I had a few scratches on my legs too. I wiped my blood on my t-shirt and then coughed once more. I continued to do so constantly until I sneezed. Ha, more blood.
I tried to move but the strength I once had was gone. I knew this is where it would end. This is where the war, for me, would end. I sat there and I didn't think about my life, I thought about others. How their life had ended way before mine, and I had woken up to see them. To bid them farewell. And who would bid me farewell? No-one. No-one but I. Lonely little I. Goodbye. Goodbye.