Spoiler
This was supposed to be an attempt at flash fiction. It definitely exceeded the word limit (for the contest) but I would like to expand on this; so tell me what you think.
The serene rigidity and straight edged silhouette of peaceful orderly life had been twisted into chaos after two weeks of bombing supposed to rid the area of the insurgency.
It was now up to the boots on the ground to go through living rooms, kitchens, and baths. A week of this had made his movements fluid and efficient. A head k-pot encased and a body kevlar clad proceeded machine-like room to room, and block to block. Every one the same: memories of the quiet human struggle lay in chaotic disarray. The glass of picture frames cracked beneath his feet.
---We’re doing this for them, right? For a way of life; freedom; democracy, Right? Helicopter blades and far-away gun fire stuttered candidly in the background.
Ghost like a girl appeared. A hair of pressure away from firing on reflex. In the wide eyes of the child were the eyes of the men shot dead and eyes differing only in the dust of poorly understood words and ideas grasped at with a spirit and faith no different then his own.
He proceeded to the next house leaving his boots at the door and walking in feet conscious of the shattered glass and painfully knowing that this was his brother’s house.
) But I did like bits and peices of it.
