thirty day writing challenge #1 (nov 2019)

day 12: from the perspective of a stranger

"they're coming, they're coming!"

"quick, settle down!"

settle down?

when they uprooted our lives and shredded our hopes and left us in the aftermath of a whirlwind of hatred?

when they tore us from the ones we loved and ripped apart our dreams and left us stranded in a sea of bitterness?

settle down?

i think not.

i'll stay standing.

i must.

the heels of his polished black boots clack against the cracked earth

a smirk, conceived of sadistic amusement and triumph, creeps across his sallow skin

almost as if the sulfur and chlorine are like ambrosia to his nose

almost as if the groaning and grieving are like a cherub's harp to his ears

everywhere around me, they crumple to their feet in a show of reverence

"sit down! what are you doing?!"

no.

i'll stay standing.

i must.

slowly, step by step, they march forward

the first flash of forest green appearing in my peripheral vision

the multiple gold badges perching on his chest piercing eyes with their blinding gleam

"go to hell!" 

a voice rings out from my left

bad move.

a tortured cry quickly fills the three-second void and i watch helpless,

eyes drawn to the crimson liquid oozing out of the fresh stinging wounds he is rewarded with

he falls to the ground

i feel acid burn in my throat

my stomach and heart quivering

he stays on the ground

but i won't.

i'll stay standing.

i must.

finally

he reaches me

his heavy strides almost passing me by but then he

stops

i swear i can see the ghost of a profanity leaving his chapped lips as he turns,

angling his body to face me

cold, soulless eyes flashing spears directly into mine

his gaze hurts

it hurts knowing that these are the onyx orbs that witnessed spirits leaping free from lifeless shells

his eyes are burning with pure, visceral hate,

so hot that the barbed metal wire between us seems to be melting

but i, bare-chested and wearing my scars,

refuse to give in.

if he stares, so will i.

let him for once see that not all of us a lambs to be led to the slaughter.

some of us are hurricanes waiting to roar with a single step forward.

let him see the blue flames licking my irises

let him see that war has only tarnished our bodies but not our hearts

we are still gold on the inside,

burning brighter and stronger with

every stroke of the cane

every crack of the whip

every slap of the words

he may try to break my knees,

force me to the barren ground,

but no matter what,

i'll stay standing.

i must.