Photo from Morguefile
We had been working in Africa for some time doing various rescue missions along with general charity work, such as putting in water.
This day was different. This day would stick in my memory for my entire life. During the evening, we had got various reports from outlying villagers of disturbances going on within the desolate wasteland. We couldn’t do anything until the sun arose to shed some light on where we were going.
As we arrived, everywhere had I had deserted everywhere. Empty buildings seemed to litter the area, but there were no signs that there had been any violence or foul play.
“Where is everybody?” I pondered out loud as I glanced down at my iPad trying to make sense of the calls we had received. It had contained reports of fighting and screaming. Strange. There was just no evidence to support it.
I looked up and noticed that everybody was silent as they stared into a neighbouring field. Instinctively, I followed their gaze and looked at a scene I would never forget. Poles stood among the grasses on top of each was a head crowned in blonde hair.
I threw up.
Written for Sunday photo fiction