MORS CERTA, HORA INCERTA

The city was warm. A nice summer day had sprung with a gentle breeze blowing through the trees, swaying to an unheard slow song. The sweet scent of blossoming flowers filled the air, encompassing the city. It was a lazy day for the inhabitants as many could be seen on their front porch lounging on a lawn chair, sucking on a fruity flavored popsicle. Kids were playing around in their yards, finding a source in entertainment in anything they could find: chalk, large sticks from a nearby oak tree, shovels, balls, and much more. Young adults were walking overexcited dogs on long leashes, ready to pounce on anything in sight. The chatter of birds could be heard in the tall oak trees, and the occasional shriek of a child would pierce through the ambience. All was well.

Large airplanes are seen at a distance, causing all the city dwellers to break their summer daze to gaze and wonder. A bit of a strange occurrence since most modes of air travel did not pass here but not catastrophic. As they approached overhead, the airplanes and helicopters looked striking larger and began to resemble less like a simple passenger plane and more of a plane for ulterior motives. They were pitch black with a huge foreign object attached to the bottom of the body of the plane. “Mommy, what is that black thingy?” The blonde little girl with brown doe-like eyes asked with mindless curiosity, tugging on the white t-shirt sleeve of her mother. She never received her answer.

In a blink of an eye, the large foreign objects were detached from the body of the plane, and fell with an intent to kill. There was no fight, no match against these bombs.

The roar of bombs murdered the once peaceful atmosphere of the city, and all could be seen were the large explosions of smoke and greedy flames, eating away at anything in its path. There were no screams, no time for goodbyes, no time to save loved ones. They were completely helpless against the life crushing force of the bombs. Mothers and Fathers, gone. Children, gone. Aunts and Uncles, gone. Chippering birds, excited dogs, majestic oak trees, gone. Life, gone.

Then it stopped.

The black and unaffected airplanes, once satisfied with the chaos they inflicted, flew into the bright blue summer sky without a care as if it was all a game, a game they won today with no repercussions. These airplanes will go back to their homes and sleep peacefully, murder completely forgotten in their minds. No one would know of their crimes; it was so unexpected. How could one ever tell?

It was warm. A nice summer day had sprung with a gentle breeze blowing through the black ashes, swaying to an unheard slow song. The putrid scent of smoke and burned flesh penetrated the air, completely encompassing the area; gone was the floral scent. It was eerily quiet, a type of silence that held so much emptiness, an emptiness too painful for the living. Visitors and living relatives would come to see the remnants of the city with shock and despair to see the people they once knew gone; they assumed that they would always be there, some with full lives to live, but they are gone now. No goodbyes, no kisses, no hugs, only last words from a meaningless telephone conversation of that morning. If only they had known…things would be different…words would have been said…lives could have been saved…if only they had known. But it was so unexpected…

MORS CERTA, HORA INCERTA

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