A flash of light lit up the small room. Small beads of the earths tears dripping through the window and holes in the ceiling. Crying. Crying for the monsters that invade the walls and bring terror among so many.
Crying for the men and women giving their lives, to only be forgotten and make a tiny difference to the hell they all live in.
Crying for their families. Not knowing if their child will come back. Or, if their sacrafice was in vain.
Husbands, wives, sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, mums and dads all losing their title when their existence suddenly comes to a halt.
When those great barriers open again, who knows how many will have survived?
Only the most elite will survive, after leaving those walls, there is no telling what'll happen to the individuals brave enough to try and defeat the ones terrorising humanity.
Count the amount of people coming back.
I dare you.
12-15 maybe?
How many left to go and fight you ask?
150 people left those walls with pride and courage in their hearts.
Those that have lived, they are scarred, you can see it in their eyes. They struggle to smile, all the death and destruction and devastation. It's all very hard to contain.
Few can stop the tears.
Others are crying a little.
The rest are bawling their eyes out, like children when you take away their toys or when mummy and daddy have had too much to drink and begin fighting each other mercilessly.
The world is praying for these individuals. HOPING that they will make it through. Others make offers towards the church to help them have a safe journey home.
Children aren't allowed to play outside, the risk of titans breaching the wall is just too high.
Therefore, sick and twisted people think that it's consent to go around after an attack amd scoop up any children they see sat with half their mother's body.
Intestines and guts lying on their tiny little feet. Blood staining their little ragged clothing and bits of rubble lying around. They kids scream and cry as they call their mummy's name. Over and over.
Hoping it will bring them back.
It won't.
The world is crying. Big, fat drops of salty tears. Catch them! And keep them. It may bring you good luck in the hard times.
Who knows?