There it stood, as high as a house. Before tonight, the students had been sitting at the very chairs and tables that made up a part of this barricade. There was more wood here than there was room for. As the boys, none older than 30, none younger than 18, apart from little Gavroche, who turned 12 a few weeks before, climbed the barricade they had so often dreamed of erecting, each of their lives flashed before their eyes, as the sounds of the gunshots echoed around them.
Enjolras saw his mother. He remembered how she always used to have to confiscate his history books, just so he would go to sleep as a child.
Marius saw his beloved Cosette, whom before yesterday, he has no idea existed. How could someone take over his head and heart so quickly?
"Pray for your Marius, sweet Cosette." he whispered.
Grantaire saw the ever so cherished whiskey bottle he had left beside his bed that morning, for when, no- if he returned home.
Feuilly remembered the sword fighting his father would teach him as a child, every day after school. They would exchange blows with swords made out of oak. He turned his head and eyes the three oak swords that made up just a miniscule fraction of this monstrous barricade.
Suddenly, the soldiers fired a cannon straight toward the amassment of wood, throwing the wood all over the gloomy streets that surrounded the Cafe Musain.
The students all kept their thoughts set on those beautiful memories they held so close to their hearts. Each one, fading away into nothingness, as they each, one by one, fell to their deaths.
The beautiful wooden barricade was coated with blood, as if it had been varnished, as red as a ruby. It glew beneath the light that shone down from the stars in the sky above.