War

Let us come in, he says, banging his fist on the door. His shouts and screams and fits reap passion in the crowds, fermenting their anxiety and hatred. He stand there, yelling at those behind him to hurry and open the door, while those behind it cower in the only shadows they can find. They whimper, shying away from the door, sliding against walls, wondering and wandering in circles.

The door is smashed. He rages into the room, unquieting the uneasy silence. He walks around, shielding his eyes from the light. The crowd has followed, chaos swimming alongside.

Those in the shadows are caught. There is one who walks out of the shadows, and welcomes them. He does not smile. He only says that what is in this house can be shared. He wants them to spare his family.

Chaos has closed the doors and the windows. It has painted the walls black. When the sun finally rises in the morning, it will weep at what once was, and what has become.

posted by Lazarus, 9:17 PM