Blood and Dust
Even sequestered in the barracks post-sortie, I’d heard whispers about the torched orphanage.
Remembering the spat platitudes—innocent casualties are inherent in war—I sneaked into the commander’s quarters.
With each thunderclap of those awful words, fingers cinched tighter.
* * * *
This was written for the Grammar Ghoul Press Shapeshifting 13 (challenge #67). In this prompt challenge, you are tasked with writing a microfiction piece or poem in exactly 39 words and using the terms orphan and inherent. I don’t know if mine qualifies, as I lengthened it to orphanage, but regardless, give these other writers a read to see how they’ve spun the terms. Further details at the link if you’d like to participate, but you have to do so by Sunday evening.
Finally, if you can, please consider helping a fellow human being. In your neighborhood, in your city, on your continent, or on this planet. Here are two stories, each listing a plethora of links (some duplicated) to organizations doing work to help Syrian refugees (whose plight prompted my microfiction).