For those who died in Conneticut on 12-14-12. 3 My heart goes out to the town and to the children's famillies.
Alfred walked along the road in Newtown, his footsteps rising clouds of dirt. It was evening, around 7:30. His footsteps came to a stop slowly as he arrived at his destination. In front of him lay a large memorial, busy and filled to the brim with stuffed animals, dolls, and various toys a child could've previously played with. Alfred swallowed, his throat feeling thick and blocked as he stared at the signs.
20 LITTLE HEARTS
+ 6 HEROES
26 ANGELS
Alfred's heart nearly snapped. His glasses fogged with the heat of his baby blue eyes filling. He hated this. So many young children and innocent lives. A wind blew, blowing out the remaining candle flames. The memorial felt cold, forgotten teddy bear plushes sagging, as if relieved of some great weight and the air filled with the sweet scent of many flower bouquets left. Alfred smiled forlornly and slipped a BIC lighter out of his pocket, his leather jacket dropping from his shoulders as he bent to light the candles once more. Lavender, vanilla, and the smoky aroma of incense rose to the dark sky and the memorial was once more gently lit with a golden glow. He stood; blonde hair falling back as he stared up at the sky. The American looked back to the small white crosses that dotted the grass, red hearts cut out lovingly with someone specially in mind stuck onto them. I'm supposed to be the hero...
His shoulders shook as he walked to the crosses, bringing two fingers to his lips and pressing each one to each white cross, a murmured apology and a farewell going along with it. He eventually came to the final cross; DAWN HOCHSPRUNG.
Alfred's face twisted. The principal of the school, who had died lunging at the gunman in order to overtake him. He smiled at the grave.
"If anyone is to be called a hero...it's you."
The distraught nation slipped off his jacket, his prized leather bomber jacket, and laid it at the foot of the cross, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand as he rose. He stared out at the field, giving it once last glance as a breeze ruffled his hair. Before turning, Alfred saw a group of children waving at him from a nearby tree. The nation squinted in an attempt to see them more clearly, they all smiled at him and a little blonde girl mouthed, "Thanks, mister!"
Alfred smiled slightly, waving back and beginning to walk away, the smile still on his face. It wasn't a sad smile, but rather one of serenity and peace.
They're happy now.
I was in school when I heard the news about Conneticut. My teacher immediately turned on the television and everyone's attention was glued to the TV. The teacher from down the hall came in and said, "19 dead now." And everyone just recoiled.
I had to honor it somehow.