Bloody Body Bags

A school day. We drop our children off to be with their friends, confident they are safe while attending classes.

Returning home, we began our weekend chores. Until. We hear planes approaching, then the sound we fear the most: exploding bombs dropped by the unseen. We run, we pray, we see our neighbors as they rush toward smoke.

We turn the corner and hear the cries, the smell of burned bodies, acrid.

Bloody body bags filled the street.

The supreme leader killed, and so are many innocent children and teachers.

Things are going according to plan?

Someone pulled the trigger!