At least that's what the falling ash looked like as it
gently covered the broken buildings and empty
streets, hiding the destruction under a soft grey
The latest target of The Organization, the city was
thought to be a hideout for resistance fighters, and
if that was the case...an example had to be made.
An eerie quit settled over the once busy city. The
sounds of life and laughter now replaced with the
sounds of crumbling buildings, an occasional dog
barking...and one small child crying.
Hiding under a pile of debris sat a lone little girl,
desperately clutching the tattered remains of a small
doll. Her small body shook uncontrollably as she
sobbed into the doll, her tears cutting a path through
the thick layer of dust covering her dark skin.
The attack had come in the early morning hours. When the sounds had stopped and the dust settled
she hadn't been able to tell where she was anymore. She
didn't recognize anything; the houses and shops where
gone, even the once blue sky had changed into that
horrible grey color that now covered everything she
had ever known. She had wondered if that grey color
would cover her and she too would disappear.
She didn't know where her parents were or any of
her friends. All she knew was somehow she had
awoken to this nightmare, one she didn't know how
to wake from. She didn't know why any of this was
happening, so she did the only thing she could think to
And so she had found the remains of a toppled building.
She carefully crawled inside the twisted concrete and metal
framing. As she sat down on the broken floor, her
hand brushed something soft. Looking down she saw
the remains of a small doll.
Burnt body and one button eye missing, it looked up
at her with it's small stitched smile so out of place in
the dark setting.
She couldn't exactly say why that thread smile,
forever sewn onto it's innocent face, made her so
angry, but it did. She grabbed it's head violently in
her hands and tore at the stitching with her nails.
Screaming at the helpless doll she tore the thread,
until the smile was gone. She then clutched it tightly
to her body and began sobbing.
That was how he found her, curled up in the
corner of the rubble, holding the doll and crying.
He radioed back to his truck that he had found
He was a tall man with long orange hair, and a burn
scar running down his left arm. He wore battered
fatigues and a red bandana tied around his leg, the
symbol of a resistance fighter.
The name patch on his chest had been mostly
scorched away, the letter D was all that remained.