This isn't going to be a war, this is going to be a massacre. That was all I could think as I looked out my window, down at all the children preparing for battle. I didn't know who's idea it was to have children fight, but they would pay for the blood that was about to be shed. I turned around. I couldn't dare to look at the future bodies, that would be lying on the ground, dead, anymore. It felt wrong. How could I morally let these children go and fight a losing battle? I couldn't. Though that didn't matter. What was I, a 15 year old girl, going to be able to do to stop this. Nothing, that's what. No one would listen to me, and even if they did, they wouldn't be much help anyway. No, the only way to save them would be to stop the battle before it begun. That would be nearly impossible, but I was willing to sacrifice myself for those children. Why let children with families die, when I could take their place. It's not like anyone was here to mourn me. No, I had already done the mourning. Now it was time for me to accept my fate, and save the children.
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Writing with writing prompts
RandomBasically short stories that spring off of writing prompts