Behind the Bloody Footsteps
“After a war, people, should return to their homes, set everything right and start life again,” Eliza told herself for about the fiftieth time in the past fifty seconds. She heard a strange whispering voice and jerked her head around. Her lovely almond shaped green eyes were wide with panic and fear. Her breathing – no she was not breathing, she was holding her breath waiting to hear the voice again. Nothing, only the silence of the breeze across burnt out yards. She noticed that the yards were all flat and charred black. They looked like they were asphalt because they were ...
