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The faint light of the moon illuminated what used to be a beautiful city, now destroyed. I made sure of that. The stars twinkled innocently above the heads of my comrades and I. I watched the last flickers of light fade from my mother's eyes and I held her head up by her hair. The old hag was finally dead. I sighed in relief. 'It was for the greater good,' I told myself. Was there really that much of a difference between villain and hero?

Short Story'sDove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora