A boy is seen surveying the wreckage of a town. A town succumed to the savageness of war, almost a year before their return. Seven children, standing, looking into the sunset at the descration and destruction of a time they no longer knew. A time when life had been free.
Now it was a time for a new begining.
Time to rebuild.
***
In The Battlefield
Mrs. Cartman was sitting on her couch in a nicely decorated home in the small town of South Park. The woman was a whore for a living and was the second richest person in South Park, second to the Broflovski's. She sat there, watching TV.
A war was taking place in Iraq Tom reported. Joking while telling of the threat the Iraqis made towards the United States. They'll never follow through, he tells the nation. But at this point, no one could guess how wrong he was.
Liane sat back in her chair shocked, worried at the threats, worried they'd be carried out. "Oh my!"
Eric Cartman, a stout young boy of eight years old, looks up from his Cheesy Poofs in an odd, angry alarm. "What?"
Liane looked at her little boy, wondering how much she should tell him. "A war may be coming here hon."
Eric nearly laughs at this. "No there won't ma. All them other countries are pussies!"
Liane, shocked at her son's point of view, was taken aback by this comment. Somehow it seemed unsettling. "Well...alright hun." She leaves quickly, going into her room.
***
Later, that Sunday afternoon, two boys stood at a bus stop, their favourite hangout. Neither boy spoke, caught up in their own thoughts, and finally the one adourned in brown, red and blue spoke.
"Dude! Did you hear? There's going to be a war!"
Kyle Broflovski, adourned in green an orange, looked confused, for he had not heard the latest news. "What? Again?"
Stan Marsh, bore a shocked look upon his face. He knew Kyle was always behind on the times, but on this? Unimaginable. "Yeah..."
Kyle's look of sadness and desperation spoke for itself. "Damn."
***
Later that evening, Kyle Broflovski sits in a tall green chair, watching the evening news, as reports continue. " Nahh...shit..."
The Iraqis have bombed the United States.
The breath leaves Kyle as he watches the news report in horror.
California has been invaded. Bombed. Iraqi mercinaries are parachuting into the country. The US is now in a state of war. It is no longer safe to leave your house. Much less stay in it.
Kyle is panicked.
***
Monday, a day to be hated. A person can list the many reasons. Kenny McCormick could list about a million. School. Life. Family. These were everyday things...accented with the word "Monday". Seeing as how the poor boy was so...poor, his little black and white TV wasn't working. He knew nothing about the war taking place within his own country. Until that fateful morning.
***
That morning in the third grade class at South Park Elementary, the teacher, Mr. Garrison and his hand puppet Mr. Hat, were preaching the day's lessons. "Don't believe that shit on TV."
Perturbed, Kyle raises his hand. "But there's going to be a war!"
Mr. Hat, Mr. Garrison's rude and annoyed part begins shouting. "No there won't!" He jumps back into his lesson. "Now-"
He is cut off by a rumbling.
Wendy, who was just exiting the building on her 'bathroom break' was thrown meters away from the force and watched in horror as the building exploded into rubble, uttering one cry. "STAN!"
The children were watching their teacher then suddenly, darkness fell upon them.
Silence fell upon South Park. Not one car. Not one bell. Not one person yelled, cried or spoke. Total silence.
***
A short time later, some rubble is seen moving. Bebe pops out of the rubble, bruised and scratched. Her head bleeds slightly. She locates Wendy, unharmed a little ways away. She begins towards her, very uncertain. "Hello?!"
Wendy, releaved at the familiar voice, pulled herself up off the ground. "Bebe!" She rushes over, and hugs Bebe. "I ran out before it exploded..."
Panic suddenlt hits her. "Where's Stan?!"
Bebe, thinks a moment. "I have no idea."
The girls begin uncovering the rubble carefully as not to hurt anyone alive inside of it. Wendy uncovers a small bloody arm. She pulls more off quicker, uncover the head of the boy, known as Kenny McCormick, the one who had died his last death. His blood and brain matter littered the rubble as though his brains had been squeezed right out of his young body.
Wendy stiffles a cry as she rapidly pulls the boy away from the rubble. "Kenny!" Checks him for a pulse, in her heart knowing she'll find none. "No!...No!"
Bebe immediately directs her attention to the sad cries of her best friend. "Oh my god...is he...?" At Wendy's despaired nod, she holds back a sob herself.
Wendy, more determined to find her boyfriend, "We have to keep looking!"
Bebe sets to work much harder. She finds her boyfriend, Clyde Goodman, alive, but unconscious, a slow trail of blood running from his head. Her worry, furiously evident, "Clyde!" She hugs his bleeding body. "Ohhhh! Please be okay!"
Wendy tediously is uncovering rubble when she spots another arm. Fighting nausea at the last time that she found an arm she begins to uncover it. The arm lays limply, twisted in an odd direction. Blood running rapidly, and bone scratching onto the rubble gave Wendy no hope. She was shocked to descover the boy adourned in orange and green, still alive inside.
Kyle Broflovski had always been a good student. Although not always attentive, he still worked his hardest. That Monday was the biggest test yet. A test to see, if he could stay alive. As the walls crumbled around him, and screams filled his ears, all he felt was pain and will. After what felt like an eternity, he could feel weight lifting off of his body and all he could think was, I made it.
Wendy pulls the boy from the rubble gently. "Kyle, are you okay?"
Kyle groans a bit, steading himself. Worry etched his figures, and disgust as he saw Kenny's body nearby. "I think so. My arm really hurts. And so does my chest."
Wendy nods. "You broke your arm for sure." She leads the troubled boy away from the rubble near a nice, unharmed tree. "Stay here." She leaves him in search of other survivors of such a blast.
Bebe watches this heartwarming scene and lifts Clyde over to Kyle. She comes up to him and hugs him softly. "You're okay!"
Kyle winces as pain shoots through his chest. "Yeah...fine..."
Bebe jumps back, seeing the position she had put Kyle in. "Oh geez! I'm sorry Kyle!"
***
Wendy uncovers the last missing person-Stan Marsh. She finds the poor boy in a pool of blood, surprisingly conscious. She whoops with joy. "Stan! Are you okay?!"
A scared Stan Marsh, adourned in blue, brown and red looks at her pitifully. "W-wendy? Is that you? Oh god! I was so scared that I lost you!"
Wendy uncovers him fully, hugging him softly. "Never. Are you hurt?"
Stan grimaces. "My chest and shoulders. But other than that I'm fine."
Wendy leads the boy to the others. As they all sit upon the ground.
***
Later that afternoon, they are all sitting there. The firs young girl to be focused on is adourned in purple and yellow with her long flowing black hair. Wendy Testaburger sits upon the ground, making notes in a small notebook she found in the wreckage. Next to her sits the boy dressed in blue, red, and brown. Stan Marsh is reading over Wendy's shoulder, making sure she didn't miss anyone, for she was writing a list...a list of the dead they had found. "I don't want to forget them." Stan had told her.
Moving along the circle, the boy in orange and green sat next. Kyle Broflovski sat staring wide-eyed at his arm. The pain was excutiating and the blood still flowed, although, not as much. The bone caught his attention, making him nausious. Next to him were Bebe, in read and black and Clyde in red and brown. Bebe is talking soothingly to the unconscious boy, not knowing weather she will speak with him once more.
Eric Cartman was the next one to the right. The portly boy, adourned in red, brown, yellow and blue sat there, amzingly unharmed. He was sick at the thought of his friends-or enemies injuries. Clara, a young girl with flowing red hair and a purple jacket, sat amazed at the sight. All the blood was getting to her and she was begining to feel faint. She felt worse when she spotted the savagely broken leg she had endured.
Jim Butters, or Butters as he was known to everyone, had been fortunate as well. He, like Eric was unharmed and was able to help take care of those injured in the explosion. His friend Philip Pirrip, known as Pip, a young British boy, unconscious in the explosion. Craig, the final of the group, lay there unconscious as well.
***
Deaths
Kenny McCormick
Kevin (chinese kid)
Devon (dirty kid)
Rebecca Cotswald
Mark Cotswald
Mr. Garrison
Dougie
Bill
Fossee
Terrance Maphesto
Tweek Tweek
***
Wendy sighs apprehensively at the list. "I don't want to add anyone else!"
Stan, sadly recalls why he asked her to do it in the first place. "We'll forget them all if we don't. We have to Wendy."
"I know."
Wendy thinks a moment. "We need to go into town. I'll take Cartman and Butters with me." After getting all the addresses to visit, the thress leave for the main road.
***
The trail ahead of the three adventurers was along, disgusting one. As the walked through the streets, they met a body here, a body there. Blood dripped down cars and windows, people were moaning in the streets.
The three tried to look away, but it was near impossible.
***
The three returned with a twelve year old girl, adourned in pink, harbouring medium legnth brown hair. Shelly Marsh, this older sibling to Stan, was in a sad state. Upon arriving, she walked up to Stan, surprisingly happy to see him and broke the news of the loss of their family.
Stan was in tears.
The others were a young two year old Canadian boy, Ike Broflovski; a twelve year old boy, pulled from the savage 'poor' country, Kevin McCormick, stayed close to Shelley's side. Amung the others were Amelia, Craig's little sister, Chef, Jimbo Kearns and Ned.
***
Upon nightfall, the raids grew louder. The rumbling could be heard in the distance. The children's fears were growing. Suddenly a lone mercinariy appeared. He put bullets through Clyde, Craig's and Pip's head, blowing away their features, shattering their skulls and scattering their brains upon the ground.
The next unfortunate ones to fall are Chef, Jimbo, Ned, and poor little Ike, being too young to be of use.
The emotionless soldier then turned to the remaining children, shivering in fear and horror of seeing their friends murdered. But at the moment, they are saved by a second soldier, calling the other away. The Iraqi leaves reluctantly and the children are overcome with grief.
***
Kyle Broflovski had nothing left. No family, few friends. No pocessions. As he looked upon the small two year old boy's face blasted away and brains litered upon the ground, he allowed one single tear to fall, before turning away from the horrific, nausiating sight.
***
The children were gathered, hiding on the other side of the rubble. The new plan was to leave, leave South Park. Leave the US. Up to Canada the remaining kids will go. A refuge, safe-haven. They would have to go through hell to get there, but they were willing to take that chance.
***
The strong cold wind blew through the frozen little bodies as they moved slowly through South Park. They hid behind cars, in alleys, basically anywhere they could, since these mercinaries were trigger-happy.
Across the street from Missy's house, they snuck into the alley, Shelley, sticking out into the light. A mercinary, high upon a rooftop, took aim and fired. The blood sprayed from her body, covering the others as she slumped to the ground.
No one dared to move, but they listened closely.
The mercinary leaves, continuing a patrol.
Stan is the first to make a sound, a move. In cold blood, his sister was shot in front of him. The empathetic nature now he can appreciate towards Kyle. He slowly moves to her body, seeing the hole in her back, blood running into the street. He kneels by her, saying a silent prayer and whispering an appology for all he'd done.
His friends look on sympathetically.
Stan leads them to Missy's house. He knocks softly.
***
Missy inside jumped at the noise. The soldiers couldn't be blitzing yet...could they? She peaked out the window and rushed to the door at the sight. She opened it wide giveing all nine survivors hugs as they came inside. "Put Clara on the couch...wonder they didn't kill her."
Stan sat in a chair letting some tears flow.
Missy takes the initiative to whisper to Kyle. "What's wrong with him...besides the obvious."
"We just watched Shelley get blasted in front of us."
Missy grimaces and looks to Stan sadly, knowing that was something he'd remember forever.
***
The next night, around 3 am, the kids were walking along-now out of South Park, after having picked up the Mole. Silence has fallen upon the group.
Two hours later, they were still moving, now in the ruins that were Denver. The effects of walking so long were taking the toll on the kids. Someone, no one could remember who, suggested sleep was needed. They fround a hiding spot and prayed that no one would find them.
***
Stan Marsh tossed and turned in his sleep. He dreamt of blood flowing, brains scattering and bones shattering. He dreamt of Kyle's face when he saw Ike get blasted into oblivion. He saw Bebe's face when she saw Clyde shot. Lastly, he felt the tears welling up as he was faced with Shelley's dead, bloody body.
***
The groups startles awake at a noise. But facing them was not danger. Two eight year olds, one boy and one girl stood before them. One whom they recognised, adourned in a purple parka and purple pants, Jenny McCormick. No one knew what to say to her.
Beside her stood a boy named Marion. He had short brown hair and talked oddly-usually. But this day, he was not speaking, not excited, understandable.
This was the day after. The day after all hell broke loose.
***
A week later, there had been no more fatalities. The group, now 13 members, moved along only at night, not knowing where the next sentry will be, or when to sleep. Many where exausted. All were starving.
Now, superstition has it that 13 is an unlucky number. Particularly on a Friday. Since it wasn't Friday, they had no worries.
Or did they?
As they walked along, Marion and Butters were carrying Clara when gunshots rang out from the distance, blasting Clara though the head. The next two hit Butters and Marion.
Butters face was missing.
Marion was still alive.
The mercinaries were coming.
Stan felt nautious at the decision that had to be made. He was too late. Marion was killed on the spot, the ten arrested.
***
The ten were taken to a camp site where the armies were situated. Blood flowed less here. Their lives had now been sentanced to be shorter, for they were in more danger. Each kid shivered in fear and cold. Not the kind of snow and wind cold, but the cold feelings they got from the opposition pierced them like knives carefully finding their place lodged in their hearts.
The khaki tent they shoved the ten into offered little protection from the cold Colorado winds. That night the ten huddled together to sleep.
Each child plagued with the images that they saw.
***
The leader of this sect of mercinaries came to see them the next day. He surveyed them and told his men to allow each to talk to him one at a time. He wanted to ask a few things.
Stan Marsh's heart was in his stomach. He was feeling nautious, but accepted to go see the man quietly. He was brought into a nicer khaki tent. This one had a small heater places on a table. For one moment, he forgot about the war, about the prisoners they now were, and enjoyed the heat. The smile left his face as soon as the man looked at him.
"Sit down kid."
Stan sat himself on the floor. To this the man smiled a bit.
"Sit on this chair."
Stan blushed, clearly embarassed. He got up and sat on the chair.
"Now I'm going to ask you a few questions. Where are you kids from?"
Stan paused and replied. "South Park."
"What are you doing out here?"
Stan thought a moment. What *were* they doing out there? "Looking for somewhere safer than South Park."
"There is a war in this country foolish boy."
Stan felt bad now. "Well, I know that. I've seen many of my friends, and my sister die in front of me. We were just looking for somewhere. Is it so bad to have hope?"
"No it's not. Many men out there would kill you because you are the enemy."
Stan looked angry. "I'm not the one you're fighting with. I'm eight years old. Lived in a small town where we don't even vote in the presidential race! How can I be the opponant?"
The man paused realizing something. This boy had a point. He didn't have to kill the boy, or his friends to take over the US. They had never stepped in the way. "What's your name kid?"
"Stan Marsh."
The man released him to his prisoner's tent. He saw no one else, but radioed the other groups, alerting them not to shoot civillans that pose no threat. He approached the tent.
***
Stan refused to tell anyone what the man had said and they were arguing quietly when the man arrived.
"You'll be fairly safe to go where you like. But beware the front line."
Wendy looked at Stan oddly. "Where's the front line?"
"East of here. Stay away from it. You're free to go." He leaves.
The kids all make their ways out of the tents, and leave the camp.
***
A month later, everything was still routine, and they were still ten.
This morning would change all that.
Upon nearing the front line, even just in passing, the gun shots were heard in the distance and the bombs where earth shattering. They made it seem like a million eath quakes were taking place in one poor town.
They were hiding when three were killed.
The first, a young girl who was shot down. Everything was bloody. This blast went through her abdomen, blasting her internal organs to the ground, her stomach and liver hitting two others.
The second went down, riddled in many bullets, his blood flowing from his body as he lay there, limp.
The last died as they made their way beyond. A mine, hidden in the grass, blew up upon him. His limbs where everywhere, blood covering the remaining seven.
***
When they finally arrived in Canada they were granted refugee status. They were led to tents, given fresh clothing. The four girls and three boys sat around a campfire that night, contemplating the long journey, the ones they lost, the death and destruction they had seen. The nightmares each had. They were finally safe.
A year later they left the safety of their tents and made the long trip back to their homes.
***
A boy is seen surveying the wreckage of a town. A town succumed to the savageness of war, almost a year before their return. Seven children, standing, looking into the sunset at the descration and destruction of a time they no longer knew. A time when life had been free.
Now it was a time for a new begining.
Time to rebuild.
THE END
Scroll down for the survivors.
Survivors
Stan Marsh
Kyle Broflovski
Eric Cartman
Missy
Bebe
Wendy Testaburger
Jenny McCormick
War is neither victorious nor fun. No one wins in a war.
Now it was a time for a new begining.
Time to rebuild.
***
In The Battlefield
Mrs. Cartman was sitting on her couch in a nicely decorated home in the small town of South Park. The woman was a whore for a living and was the second richest person in South Park, second to the Broflovski's. She sat there, watching TV.
A war was taking place in Iraq Tom reported. Joking while telling of the threat the Iraqis made towards the United States. They'll never follow through, he tells the nation. But at this point, no one could guess how wrong he was.
Liane sat back in her chair shocked, worried at the threats, worried they'd be carried out. "Oh my!"
Eric Cartman, a stout young boy of eight years old, looks up from his Cheesy Poofs in an odd, angry alarm. "What?"
Liane looked at her little boy, wondering how much she should tell him. "A war may be coming here hon."
Eric nearly laughs at this. "No there won't ma. All them other countries are pussies!"
Liane, shocked at her son's point of view, was taken aback by this comment. Somehow it seemed unsettling. "Well...alright hun." She leaves quickly, going into her room.
***
Later, that Sunday afternoon, two boys stood at a bus stop, their favourite hangout. Neither boy spoke, caught up in their own thoughts, and finally the one adourned in brown, red and blue spoke.
"Dude! Did you hear? There's going to be a war!"
Kyle Broflovski, adourned in green an orange, looked confused, for he had not heard the latest news. "What? Again?"
Stan Marsh, bore a shocked look upon his face. He knew Kyle was always behind on the times, but on this? Unimaginable. "Yeah..."
Kyle's look of sadness and desperation spoke for itself. "Damn."
***
Later that evening, Kyle Broflovski sits in a tall green chair, watching the evening news, as reports continue. " Nahh...shit..."
The Iraqis have bombed the United States.
The breath leaves Kyle as he watches the news report in horror.
California has been invaded. Bombed. Iraqi mercinaries are parachuting into the country. The US is now in a state of war. It is no longer safe to leave your house. Much less stay in it.
Kyle is panicked.
***
Monday, a day to be hated. A person can list the many reasons. Kenny McCormick could list about a million. School. Life. Family. These were everyday things...accented with the word "Monday". Seeing as how the poor boy was so...poor, his little black and white TV wasn't working. He knew nothing about the war taking place within his own country. Until that fateful morning.
***
That morning in the third grade class at South Park Elementary, the teacher, Mr. Garrison and his hand puppet Mr. Hat, were preaching the day's lessons. "Don't believe that shit on TV."
Perturbed, Kyle raises his hand. "But there's going to be a war!"
Mr. Hat, Mr. Garrison's rude and annoyed part begins shouting. "No there won't!" He jumps back into his lesson. "Now-"
He is cut off by a rumbling.
Wendy, who was just exiting the building on her 'bathroom break' was thrown meters away from the force and watched in horror as the building exploded into rubble, uttering one cry. "STAN!"
The children were watching their teacher then suddenly, darkness fell upon them.
Silence fell upon South Park. Not one car. Not one bell. Not one person yelled, cried or spoke. Total silence.
***
A short time later, some rubble is seen moving. Bebe pops out of the rubble, bruised and scratched. Her head bleeds slightly. She locates Wendy, unharmed a little ways away. She begins towards her, very uncertain. "Hello?!"
Wendy, releaved at the familiar voice, pulled herself up off the ground. "Bebe!" She rushes over, and hugs Bebe. "I ran out before it exploded..."
Panic suddenlt hits her. "Where's Stan?!"
Bebe, thinks a moment. "I have no idea."
The girls begin uncovering the rubble carefully as not to hurt anyone alive inside of it. Wendy uncovers a small bloody arm. She pulls more off quicker, uncover the head of the boy, known as Kenny McCormick, the one who had died his last death. His blood and brain matter littered the rubble as though his brains had been squeezed right out of his young body.
Wendy stiffles a cry as she rapidly pulls the boy away from the rubble. "Kenny!" Checks him for a pulse, in her heart knowing she'll find none. "No!...No!"
Bebe immediately directs her attention to the sad cries of her best friend. "Oh my god...is he...?" At Wendy's despaired nod, she holds back a sob herself.
Wendy, more determined to find her boyfriend, "We have to keep looking!"
Bebe sets to work much harder. She finds her boyfriend, Clyde Goodman, alive, but unconscious, a slow trail of blood running from his head. Her worry, furiously evident, "Clyde!" She hugs his bleeding body. "Ohhhh! Please be okay!"
Wendy tediously is uncovering rubble when she spots another arm. Fighting nausea at the last time that she found an arm she begins to uncover it. The arm lays limply, twisted in an odd direction. Blood running rapidly, and bone scratching onto the rubble gave Wendy no hope. She was shocked to descover the boy adourned in orange and green, still alive inside.
Kyle Broflovski had always been a good student. Although not always attentive, he still worked his hardest. That Monday was the biggest test yet. A test to see, if he could stay alive. As the walls crumbled around him, and screams filled his ears, all he felt was pain and will. After what felt like an eternity, he could feel weight lifting off of his body and all he could think was, I made it.
Wendy pulls the boy from the rubble gently. "Kyle, are you okay?"
Kyle groans a bit, steading himself. Worry etched his figures, and disgust as he saw Kenny's body nearby. "I think so. My arm really hurts. And so does my chest."
Wendy nods. "You broke your arm for sure." She leads the troubled boy away from the rubble near a nice, unharmed tree. "Stay here." She leaves him in search of other survivors of such a blast.
Bebe watches this heartwarming scene and lifts Clyde over to Kyle. She comes up to him and hugs him softly. "You're okay!"
Kyle winces as pain shoots through his chest. "Yeah...fine..."
Bebe jumps back, seeing the position she had put Kyle in. "Oh geez! I'm sorry Kyle!"
***
Wendy uncovers the last missing person-Stan Marsh. She finds the poor boy in a pool of blood, surprisingly conscious. She whoops with joy. "Stan! Are you okay?!"
A scared Stan Marsh, adourned in blue, brown and red looks at her pitifully. "W-wendy? Is that you? Oh god! I was so scared that I lost you!"
Wendy uncovers him fully, hugging him softly. "Never. Are you hurt?"
Stan grimaces. "My chest and shoulders. But other than that I'm fine."
Wendy leads the boy to the others. As they all sit upon the ground.
***
Later that afternoon, they are all sitting there. The firs young girl to be focused on is adourned in purple and yellow with her long flowing black hair. Wendy Testaburger sits upon the ground, making notes in a small notebook she found in the wreckage. Next to her sits the boy dressed in blue, red, and brown. Stan Marsh is reading over Wendy's shoulder, making sure she didn't miss anyone, for she was writing a list...a list of the dead they had found. "I don't want to forget them." Stan had told her.
Moving along the circle, the boy in orange and green sat next. Kyle Broflovski sat staring wide-eyed at his arm. The pain was excutiating and the blood still flowed, although, not as much. The bone caught his attention, making him nausious. Next to him were Bebe, in read and black and Clyde in red and brown. Bebe is talking soothingly to the unconscious boy, not knowing weather she will speak with him once more.
Eric Cartman was the next one to the right. The portly boy, adourned in red, brown, yellow and blue sat there, amzingly unharmed. He was sick at the thought of his friends-or enemies injuries. Clara, a young girl with flowing red hair and a purple jacket, sat amazed at the sight. All the blood was getting to her and she was begining to feel faint. She felt worse when she spotted the savagely broken leg she had endured.
Jim Butters, or Butters as he was known to everyone, had been fortunate as well. He, like Eric was unharmed and was able to help take care of those injured in the explosion. His friend Philip Pirrip, known as Pip, a young British boy, unconscious in the explosion. Craig, the final of the group, lay there unconscious as well.
***
Deaths
Kenny McCormick
Kevin (chinese kid)
Devon (dirty kid)
Rebecca Cotswald
Mark Cotswald
Mr. Garrison
Dougie
Bill
Fossee
Terrance Maphesto
Tweek Tweek
***
Wendy sighs apprehensively at the list. "I don't want to add anyone else!"
Stan, sadly recalls why he asked her to do it in the first place. "We'll forget them all if we don't. We have to Wendy."
"I know."
Wendy thinks a moment. "We need to go into town. I'll take Cartman and Butters with me." After getting all the addresses to visit, the thress leave for the main road.
***
The trail ahead of the three adventurers was along, disgusting one. As the walked through the streets, they met a body here, a body there. Blood dripped down cars and windows, people were moaning in the streets.
The three tried to look away, but it was near impossible.
***
The three returned with a twelve year old girl, adourned in pink, harbouring medium legnth brown hair. Shelly Marsh, this older sibling to Stan, was in a sad state. Upon arriving, she walked up to Stan, surprisingly happy to see him and broke the news of the loss of their family.
Stan was in tears.
The others were a young two year old Canadian boy, Ike Broflovski; a twelve year old boy, pulled from the savage 'poor' country, Kevin McCormick, stayed close to Shelley's side. Amung the others were Amelia, Craig's little sister, Chef, Jimbo Kearns and Ned.
***
Upon nightfall, the raids grew louder. The rumbling could be heard in the distance. The children's fears were growing. Suddenly a lone mercinariy appeared. He put bullets through Clyde, Craig's and Pip's head, blowing away their features, shattering their skulls and scattering their brains upon the ground.
The next unfortunate ones to fall are Chef, Jimbo, Ned, and poor little Ike, being too young to be of use.
The emotionless soldier then turned to the remaining children, shivering in fear and horror of seeing their friends murdered. But at the moment, they are saved by a second soldier, calling the other away. The Iraqi leaves reluctantly and the children are overcome with grief.
***
Kyle Broflovski had nothing left. No family, few friends. No pocessions. As he looked upon the small two year old boy's face blasted away and brains litered upon the ground, he allowed one single tear to fall, before turning away from the horrific, nausiating sight.
***
The children were gathered, hiding on the other side of the rubble. The new plan was to leave, leave South Park. Leave the US. Up to Canada the remaining kids will go. A refuge, safe-haven. They would have to go through hell to get there, but they were willing to take that chance.
***
The strong cold wind blew through the frozen little bodies as they moved slowly through South Park. They hid behind cars, in alleys, basically anywhere they could, since these mercinaries were trigger-happy.
Across the street from Missy's house, they snuck into the alley, Shelley, sticking out into the light. A mercinary, high upon a rooftop, took aim and fired. The blood sprayed from her body, covering the others as she slumped to the ground.
No one dared to move, but they listened closely.
The mercinary leaves, continuing a patrol.
Stan is the first to make a sound, a move. In cold blood, his sister was shot in front of him. The empathetic nature now he can appreciate towards Kyle. He slowly moves to her body, seeing the hole in her back, blood running into the street. He kneels by her, saying a silent prayer and whispering an appology for all he'd done.
His friends look on sympathetically.
Stan leads them to Missy's house. He knocks softly.
***
Missy inside jumped at the noise. The soldiers couldn't be blitzing yet...could they? She peaked out the window and rushed to the door at the sight. She opened it wide giveing all nine survivors hugs as they came inside. "Put Clara on the couch...wonder they didn't kill her."
Stan sat in a chair letting some tears flow.
Missy takes the initiative to whisper to Kyle. "What's wrong with him...besides the obvious."
"We just watched Shelley get blasted in front of us."
Missy grimaces and looks to Stan sadly, knowing that was something he'd remember forever.
***
The next night, around 3 am, the kids were walking along-now out of South Park, after having picked up the Mole. Silence has fallen upon the group.
Two hours later, they were still moving, now in the ruins that were Denver. The effects of walking so long were taking the toll on the kids. Someone, no one could remember who, suggested sleep was needed. They fround a hiding spot and prayed that no one would find them.
***
Stan Marsh tossed and turned in his sleep. He dreamt of blood flowing, brains scattering and bones shattering. He dreamt of Kyle's face when he saw Ike get blasted into oblivion. He saw Bebe's face when she saw Clyde shot. Lastly, he felt the tears welling up as he was faced with Shelley's dead, bloody body.
***
The groups startles awake at a noise. But facing them was not danger. Two eight year olds, one boy and one girl stood before them. One whom they recognised, adourned in a purple parka and purple pants, Jenny McCormick. No one knew what to say to her.
Beside her stood a boy named Marion. He had short brown hair and talked oddly-usually. But this day, he was not speaking, not excited, understandable.
This was the day after. The day after all hell broke loose.
***
A week later, there had been no more fatalities. The group, now 13 members, moved along only at night, not knowing where the next sentry will be, or when to sleep. Many where exausted. All were starving.
Now, superstition has it that 13 is an unlucky number. Particularly on a Friday. Since it wasn't Friday, they had no worries.
Or did they?
As they walked along, Marion and Butters were carrying Clara when gunshots rang out from the distance, blasting Clara though the head. The next two hit Butters and Marion.
Butters face was missing.
Marion was still alive.
The mercinaries were coming.
Stan felt nautious at the decision that had to be made. He was too late. Marion was killed on the spot, the ten arrested.
***
The ten were taken to a camp site where the armies were situated. Blood flowed less here. Their lives had now been sentanced to be shorter, for they were in more danger. Each kid shivered in fear and cold. Not the kind of snow and wind cold, but the cold feelings they got from the opposition pierced them like knives carefully finding their place lodged in their hearts.
The khaki tent they shoved the ten into offered little protection from the cold Colorado winds. That night the ten huddled together to sleep.
Each child plagued with the images that they saw.
***
The leader of this sect of mercinaries came to see them the next day. He surveyed them and told his men to allow each to talk to him one at a time. He wanted to ask a few things.
Stan Marsh's heart was in his stomach. He was feeling nautious, but accepted to go see the man quietly. He was brought into a nicer khaki tent. This one had a small heater places on a table. For one moment, he forgot about the war, about the prisoners they now were, and enjoyed the heat. The smile left his face as soon as the man looked at him.
"Sit down kid."
Stan sat himself on the floor. To this the man smiled a bit.
"Sit on this chair."
Stan blushed, clearly embarassed. He got up and sat on the chair.
"Now I'm going to ask you a few questions. Where are you kids from?"
Stan paused and replied. "South Park."
"What are you doing out here?"
Stan thought a moment. What *were* they doing out there? "Looking for somewhere safer than South Park."
"There is a war in this country foolish boy."
Stan felt bad now. "Well, I know that. I've seen many of my friends, and my sister die in front of me. We were just looking for somewhere. Is it so bad to have hope?"
"No it's not. Many men out there would kill you because you are the enemy."
Stan looked angry. "I'm not the one you're fighting with. I'm eight years old. Lived in a small town where we don't even vote in the presidential race! How can I be the opponant?"
The man paused realizing something. This boy had a point. He didn't have to kill the boy, or his friends to take over the US. They had never stepped in the way. "What's your name kid?"
"Stan Marsh."
The man released him to his prisoner's tent. He saw no one else, but radioed the other groups, alerting them not to shoot civillans that pose no threat. He approached the tent.
***
Stan refused to tell anyone what the man had said and they were arguing quietly when the man arrived.
"You'll be fairly safe to go where you like. But beware the front line."
Wendy looked at Stan oddly. "Where's the front line?"
"East of here. Stay away from it. You're free to go." He leaves.
The kids all make their ways out of the tents, and leave the camp.
***
A month later, everything was still routine, and they were still ten.
This morning would change all that.
Upon nearing the front line, even just in passing, the gun shots were heard in the distance and the bombs where earth shattering. They made it seem like a million eath quakes were taking place in one poor town.
They were hiding when three were killed.
The first, a young girl who was shot down. Everything was bloody. This blast went through her abdomen, blasting her internal organs to the ground, her stomach and liver hitting two others.
The second went down, riddled in many bullets, his blood flowing from his body as he lay there, limp.
The last died as they made their way beyond. A mine, hidden in the grass, blew up upon him. His limbs where everywhere, blood covering the remaining seven.
***
When they finally arrived in Canada they were granted refugee status. They were led to tents, given fresh clothing. The four girls and three boys sat around a campfire that night, contemplating the long journey, the ones they lost, the death and destruction they had seen. The nightmares each had. They were finally safe.
A year later they left the safety of their tents and made the long trip back to their homes.
***
A boy is seen surveying the wreckage of a town. A town succumed to the savageness of war, almost a year before their return. Seven children, standing, looking into the sunset at the descration and destruction of a time they no longer knew. A time when life had been free.
Now it was a time for a new begining.
Time to rebuild.
THE END
Scroll down for the survivors.
Survivors
Stan Marsh
Kyle Broflovski
Eric Cartman
Missy
Bebe
Wendy Testaburger
Jenny McCormick
War is neither victorious nor fun. No one wins in a war.