Cry of Traitors

Hello there fellow wattpad dears. So this is a short story set in a SMALL town in Spain. I won't specify though. This is completely fiction. Before any thing else I have nothing against Spanish people. I think they are absolutely lovely. The battle between Spain and my country ended decades ago.

The stimulation of this story came primarily because I was bored with class so I got my dictionary, randomly picked a word and got my inspiration from it. The word was photo play by the way but I somehow ended up here.

This work was also influenced by our previous history lessons.

Happy reading (this is not comedy though)

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The higher courts raised the flags in victory. We had won the war, they said.

The noble ladies were seated on their mahogany chairs gossiping to each other atop the balcony, beyond the steel gates where I was situated. Their lips were painted red like the blood of the most cruel assassin. Their faces were caked white, and their cheeks blushed with the faintest pink.

"They look beautiful" I would say but Papa would always answer me with a smile and kiss Mum. He never agreed.

But now as they threw their napkins gently to the crowd, their delicate fingers dancing as they waved, they looked hideous. Their husbands wore their uniforms with pride, almost as if they were involved during the war.

Even though I am still at a tender age of 15, I understood more than most of the people here. I knew that the enemy never stood a chance. I knew that we were powerful, selfish and greedy beyond measure. I knew that in the eyes of the rest of the world, we were the opposing party, a cruel race feared by many.

The gobernador stood afar. I only saw a glimpse of him as the crowd grew thicker and thicker. His voice could barely be heard by me, one of the few who stood afar. But I know the content of his speech. Lies. Lies. It would all be lies.

All of the sudden, everything around me vanished into thin air as I saw faces of people I never even knew. Their skin was far darker compared to ours and their mane was as black as the night sky. They were wounded, dying, begging for mercy. But before I could reach out my hand, I saw my parents.

They were supposed to be dead but there they were. Their complexions contrasted the brown of the strangers. It was unusual to me but it seems that they had been friends for a long time.

Mum was offering the brown people some soup and Papa was treating their wounds. He made the effort of starting a conversation but by the looks of it, it seems that his patients couldn't understand. They all laughed at their lack of communication skills. I can't help but show a weak smile.

Without warning, several army soldiers came barging in the wooden house they were settling. One of them grabbed a brown man by his neck. Papa pointed his gun at him and shot him to the ground as he signaled the rest to leave. Mum led the children out of the hut, but was eventually captured by a rough burly soldier. Papa, being outnumbered lay down his gun and raised both his arms in defeat.

Where was I when this happened? The tropical heat that radiated answered my question. It was a completely different world.

My imaginary overseas travel didn't last very long as I was led back to the town square. But I was alone. Where are the people? The crowd? The melodramatic nationalists?

Then I saw both of them, Mum and Dad being led to center where anyone, if there was anyone, could see. They were bound like animals, tied to ropes and beaten with each step. But they weren't crying for help.

"Traydor!" The man with a gun screamed and shot them both dead. Tears were flowing down their eyes yet their faces showed no regrets as they fell down the cold hard floor. It took every bit of Papa's strength, but he somehow managed to give her that last kiss.

The people reappeared again one by one, cheering at our country's victory. The gobernador just finished his speech, waving the country's flag from side to side. Despicable.

My parents didn't deserve their deaths. They weren't even given a proper burial.

They were heroes, but I was deemed a child of traitors.