Time To Move On

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The stench of rotting flesh invades my nostrils as I carefully pick my way through the smouldering rubble. There are bound to be survivors, there always were. It was as if God was trying his best to fight back, despite the odds being stacked against him. My men would deal with them, some more mercifully than others. There were to be no prisoners. My superiors had been adamant in wanting nobody left behind to tell any tales. By nightfall it would all be over. Time to move on, further orders, more burning, more cleansing – all in the name of progress.

MikeJackson©2016

The start of my 30 Day Challenge – 100 x 100 word stories in October. Story number 1.

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