After Warfare

     The end had come for him. He knew it. Just this one time, he didn’t feel like fighting anymore. All around him bodies were strewn in the most grotesque of positions. Their glassy eyes bored into his own, pleading him not to go further and telling him to lie down and rest. Anger flooded his mind. They had no right to take my family. Had no right to destroy my home. Had no right to strip me down into a weak man. Then sadness flowed through his veins, calming him. His face contorted into that of young boy who had just lost his mother. Why am I fighting for something I don't believe in? 

     The sun had started to rise over the bloody field. Strands of sunlight wove through fog that was drifting over the red grass, and cast a warm glow on the nameless faces. He stood up, even though he felt like doing nothing, but crying. A new day had started. A new beginning. He now knew there was no true winner in a war. The Archduke’s assassination had been pointless. In the end, there were only deaths that could have been avoided. In the end, there were only families torn apart. In the end, there were only fields soaked in soldiers’ blood.

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{A/N - I wrote this for a creative writing assignment. It is classified as flash-fiction since it is less than 500 words. When I read this to the class, many people thought parts of it sounded like a poem. I would really appreciate your thoughts on which parts did or not, so I could format it in a more pleasing way. Other suggestions to improve are also appreciated.}