Author's notes:
I'd been floating this around in my head for a while now, sorry its so short its just a blurb about a new revolution in America.
New Revolution
The most vivid memory I would have from that war was the burning fields of golden grass. War torn battlefields were not something I was a stranger to, but I had never felt the fire scorch my own land like that.
As bombs fell from the sky I could here my people's cries. No mater if I covered my ears I could still here there screams. I'd brought this war on to myself. I should have listened to my people not my leader's or the money that talked.
The flames scorched my own skin, I ached all over, I felt weak, I was tired. Poison gasses burned at my lungs. I'd never felt the strain of war like this. I was scared. I was always the hero, now who was going to save me?
Briton?
France?
Canada?
Someone?
No. I'd have to be my own hero and end this war just like I started it. But, how does one win a war against themselves?
Author's notes:
Thanks for reading. Reviews would be awesome.