Little Inklings 2020-21

24 ?Casualt ies? He looked up to the house, standing on the cracked and mud-caked sidewalk as the wind howled. It was a strange place. Still, it seemed the best option. There was no large population near, only a few scattered, well-maintained, small houses with large farms. He hoped the house would be in better repair on the inside. The clouds moved quickly across the sky, and he heard a sharp, loud clap. He and the whole mass of people he led ducked out of instinct. Soon, the people rose again, still apprehensive and quiet. The clap of thunder was an indication of rain-- possibly snow in the chilling air that made so many tremble. The man led the others into the house. They moved quickly-- only the shuffling of feet and the occasional shout from a child followed by a mother ?s shushing audible. It was clear, from the sniper ?s view atop the hill, that none of them were happy. It seemed that not one among the throng of people was incapable of smiling. It didn?t appear to be a fresh sadness, though; it seemed that the sadness had settled in, like an old, deep pain. The people moved, and the sniper ?s finger moved closer to the trigger. The sniper wasn't sure what to do-- his orders were to shoot anyone insight that didn?t wear the faded blue uniform, but these people seemed incapable of getting in the way of the effort. The crowd was one giant moving mass of people-- the sniper would barely have to aim, just shoot repeatedly. They were dressed in dirtied clothes and rags; the children wore what seemed to be sacks that were caked with mud-- they must have weighed a lot. The sniper wondered how they would survive the winter. He was about to pull the trigger-- he was angry at the people for no rational reason, he knew, but he felt that killing such a multitude of people would free him of this generalized, irrational anger. The sniper recognized that he wanted to shoot anyone who didn?t proudly bear the blue uniform.