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Broken Sky
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Mortar’s erupted across the early stretches of morning sky, raining down death as troops and machinery clashed upon the battlefield. A squadron of F-18 fighter jets streaked amongst the clouds as Italian Arrowhearts peppered the air with bullets. From atop the overhanging cliff, two seasoned men stood gazing at the massacre below. One of the men crouched down staring at a tactical display as statistics and radio communications interweaved. He removed his tattered sand colored helmet, unleashing a tidal wave of hair down across his shoulders.

“General Alexo, I thought all military men were to adhere to the dress code?†the other man barked halfheartedly.

Alexo smirked and messaged his head. “I’m sorry Commander, t’would appear that my families history of rebellin’ has carried through t’me.â€

The Commander’s lips split, revealing a row of glistening teeth. His eyes danced across the battlefield, as though he could feel it breathing and moving. His face was crises crossed with razor sharp wrinkles around the eyes and forehead, while a near invisible scar cut across his right cheek. The Commander watched as the lines advanced past a damaged enemy tank. “I will not be reporting you General. Anyone willing to stand up to the war to remain an individual and not a tool of the system has my full support.â€

Alexo replaced his helmet. “Thank you Sir.â€

The display flashed to life as a message came across the screen. Alexo leaned forward and opened the file. “Commander, we have an incoming message from Control.â€

A frown seeped through the corners of the Commanders demeanor as his shoulders fell slowly. “Play it for me Alexo.â€

Static bled from the speakers as the grainy female voice cleared her throat. “Commander Scotov, we have received intel that the Italian Underground is preparing a series of guerilla attacks against New Liberty. As soon as your battle is completed, we ask that you return to New Liberty Control post haste.â€

“As you wish, Lieutenant Janson.â€

“One more thing Commander, your father will be home in twenty minutes, make sure that you are ready for dinner by six.â€

The Lieutenant nodded and the signal vanished. Scotov grimaced as all his attention returned to the battlefield. He hated when the Lieutenant interrupted his afternoon war reenactments, especially to tell him that his father would be home early. This would ultimately mean he would have to put the war against the Italian Underground on hold until tomorrow after school. The Commander sighed as the loyal soldier’s dissolved back into small green army men entrenched in the dark green carpet.

Collin stared out his window as the golden tree leaves danced with the early October breeze. He walked carefully across the warzone, sitting down in front of his desk and opened his homework packet.

Minutes later, the sound of pencil against paper slowed to nothing as Collin’s head slowly sank down onto his arm, his eyes growing heavy. He attempted to fight off sleep, but the smell of charred earth and the pinging of bullets pulled Collin back into the war.

Hours past as Collin’s head rocketed upwards. The sky outside had turned from gray to black. Collin rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand as the victory of New Liberty faded into his memory. The smell of burnt bread punctured Collin’s mind as he slowly made his way downstairs. The living room clock chimed a quarter past eight.

Collin rounded the staircase and pushed open the kitchen door as the smell of burnt bread grew stronger. “Mom did you drop something in the oven?â€

He surveyed the kitchen to find a pot of linguine noodles slowly bubbling over the edge, the water hissing as it struck the hot coils. “Mom, you should have come and gotten me, we could have eaten awhile ago. You didn’t have to wait for me.â€

The house remained silent.

Collin stood alone in the kitchen, unsure of what was going on. He walked toward the counter and paused. Resting in the sink, was knife covered in spaghetti sauce. Collin’s eyes continued down, following a streak of sauce as it dripped down the wooden cabinet, and raced along the wooden flooring underneath the door leading into the dining room.

As Collin neared the door, the faint rumblings of the television set could be heard describing the following days weather for the morning commute. Collin slowly pushed the door open a crack, staring at the corner of the dining room table. His mother’s chair was pulled out while his father sat with his back to the dining room door.

Collin sighed. “Sorry dad, I fell asleep doing Mrs. Lloyd’s fraction homework. Have you seen mom?â€

His father remained silent. Collin opened the door and froze.

His father sat at his seat, slouched over the evening paper while his mom sat in front of the television, her head tilted to the side. The trail of sauce diverged as it coursed it’s way up the back of Collin’s father’s chair and into the seeping gunshot hole that had replaced the left side of his head. The other path sliced cleanly along the couch and arching against the glowing TV screen, as his mother’s throat lay empty of blood.

Collin stood dead still as the sound of sirens tore toward his house as the sounds of war and death collapsed around him.

Cars screeched to a halt as voices shouted through the door. Collin fell to his knees. He vaguely heard the wood splinter as police entered and began clearing the rooms while Commander Scotov sat at the tactical display and watched as his troops fell into retreat as Underground Battle shells bombarded the river valley. Two Underground assassins’ approached him from the rear, placing their hands gently on his shoulders….

The police officers stood dead still just to the left of Collin. Collin sat on the hard wood floors, his hands twirling and smearing the blood of his parents upon his body. A dead void shone from beneath Cllin’s eyes as his lips whispered to themselves.

“Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.â€