A decade has passed since small chubby hands gripped these chains I think, Idally pushing myself forwards and backwards on the creaky swing, being careful not to lose my balance and fall into the crater behind me.
I can see my house from here, or rather the space where my house once was, now nothing more than a mound of twisted concrete and forgotten things.
Why have I come back here, to the place I used to play? My childhood died here, was murdered here.
Just another victim of war I suppose.
At least I lived to mourn it.
Written for and inspired by 99 Word Stories
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Sweeterthannothing 
A very good story
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Thanks! 🙂
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U are welcome
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What a potent vision of the craters war leaves. There’s something about the character’s visitation that feels like closure for moving on, for reclaiming what was taken from childhood.
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I think so, there’s a certain power in being able to relive something with the benefit of time and space that enables us to truly let go.
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As if pulled from the streets of Kosevo. Grim happiness.
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It’s harrowing to think of the thousands of children this is still happening to in this day and age. Thank you for reading and commenting.
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That’s very haunting and sad, but I’m pleased you survived.
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Thank you for reading and commenting.
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Wow.To have a childhood taken, that is a kind of murder. I hope Charli is right and there can be some reclamation. Very powerful flash.
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I hope so too, thank you for reading and commenting.
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This is a powerfully written piece!
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Thank you, I know it’s quite dark, not everyone’s cup of tea.
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