Two

 2. "Black Rose" by J.T. Peterson


It was never foreseen. The war always seemed too far away, so fantastical, and only accessible thought the radio where bits of official announcement would tell the masses the current progress of the war. It all seemed impossible that she, at home, at a place so far from the front lines, would get injured at any way. It was that morning, where the radio, with its monotonous messages about eastern war fronts, talked about a remote location in the plains filled with only civilians, was suddenly and abruptly attacked. The radio spoke, 

“The flames from the city rose miles, as smoke and ashes drifted to nearby towns, alerting villagers of peaceful, secluded places, of war.” 

With anxiety he never felt before, he jumped on the first military flight out of base, at the opposable of his superior, and rushed home, in nothing but a hoodie he wore the day before. He arrived, only to see a catastrophe, and felt again the shock that he endured during his first sighting of war and his first killing. He ran through the wreckage, and in the midst of fire and hell, he found her, the girl that taught him humanity, in the ruins of the most inhumane act that humans could perform. Her blood stained his clothing as he carried her away from the flames. And now, with the last of his humanity connections gone, he fell in the infinite abyss of despair against the morals of humanity. And so he, the Angel of Death, was thus born.

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