She stood there next to the body. She pulled a grey cloth from her pocket and wiped the blood from her metal claws and retracted them. Glancing at the body, she kicked it under the table and it rolled limply under the desk. She walked to the door and left.
All the way to her black,shiny car she thought about the young, German man. Had he really not known about the man or had he been lying about it...
Clutching his school books close to his chest, the boy walked quietly through the busy corridor, glancing at the older students wondering who was judging him and why. They always judged him. He could tell. He looked at his timetable to see what his next lesson was. "Stupid Latin," he mumbled.
"Latin is a dead language everyone knows that!" He muttered under his breath. He walked into the classroom.
YOU ARE READING
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
ActionThis is kind of related to x-men. Title is from the Wilfred Owen war poem: Dulce et decorum est
