(100-word flash fiction)
The rain battered the roof sounding like dancing skeletons. Or machine-gun fire. Both reminded him of Afghanistan.
Behind his closed sleepless eyelids rose images of families huddled in shacks, hiding their daughters, their young sons. Their once-proud brows shrunken by war and poverty. Their once erect backs, bent.
Only young Iqbal was different. Orphaned, rudderless, hanging around the camp doing odd jobs, immune to the horrors, always smiling, as though he, impossibly, saw only light everywhere.
For him, the war ended when Iqbal was found dead, hit by a stray American bullet.
Collateral damage, they said. Bloody murder, he thought.
~~~
Ah! Wednesday night and we all gather around the Friday Fictioneers fire, led by our ablest Girl Guide Rochelle 🙂
Photo prompt –
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
Just Joyfulness 
Such a sad tragedy, the innocent victim of horrible war.
Thanks Iain.
Dear Joyful,
In one of my favorite shows of all time, MASH, Hawkeye, a surgeon in an army hospital made the comment that war was worse than Hell, because in Hell there are no innocent bystanders. Well written and tragic.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thanks Rochelle. I used to love MASH too. The irony of making a comedy series in a war setting was a killer.
Lots of power and pathos in just a few words.
Thanks Granonine.
As my Gr. Granpa would say “War is hell? Dammit, war is worse than hell!” Great story.
So true Jelli. Thanks for the compliment.
This abandoned factory seems to have spoken to a lot of the writers in a very similar way. A sense of abandonment or escape from horror, or a place to meet horror.
Thanks James.
Powerful short one. Ruins, destruction, poverty and neglect are lasting images in one’s head
Thanks Bryan.
I really loved this tragedy… there is a reason why we should hate war rather than maker war because we hate.
Thanks Bjorn. I doubt if nowadays we make war because we hate. It’s more like let’s make war so that we can sell guns and make money.
Absolutely right. British-made bombs are being dropped on Yemen by Saudi Arabia and killing civilians. How can we end this evil trade?
All the more sad because it’s a reflection of the truth. We’ll crafted.
Thanks very much.
A clear story which Hits home
Thanks Michael.
This is really powerful. Well done.
Thanks very much, Louise.
Very powerful polemic using the fiction writer’s art. Make the abstract injustice personal and it becomes – bloody murder.
Well done indeed JJ!
Thanks Penny. The abstract injustice is always personal for someone or the other, unfortunately. 😦
A beautifully told tragedy. You did this so well,
Thanks very much, Lynn.
My pleasure 🙂
Very atmospheric. Loved the imagery.
Thanks Neel.
You drove home the innocence of the child in a war torn place. Such potential and hope for the further, so abruptly taken away. And hardly even acknowledged by the killers. Tragic story.
Thanks Fatima. So true, what you said. It is especially sad when the good and the pure are taken away so mindlessly. 😦
Unfortunately war still remains a reality. Well crafted story. I loved the first line.
Thanks very much Norma.
The rain battered the roof sounding like dancing skeletons. Or machine-gun fire.
Wow!!!! What a fantastic opening to a well-written tale.
Thanks so much for the praise Alicia. So glad you liked it.
My pleasure!
A tragic tale, told compassionately. Loved those dancing skeleton sounds!
Sad tale beautifully told with so few words.
Nicely told, and very sad.
A powerful and hard hitting write.
Thanks Dahlia.