The killing field surrounded her as if she was in the eye of the storm. Bodies strewn all over, stabbed, shot, burnt. Not another living soul was in sight. Fallen comrades in arms were strewn among the remains of their enemies. It was a miracle that she was alive considering how much of her own blood stained the ground beneath her feet.
Her unit had been sent out to stop the approaching horde. Their village had been decimated by the plague, so they could only send out farmers and those too old to serve anymore. She was amazed they had stopped the monsters from taking away what was left.
She was so tired, but there was still there was more to do. She lit her torch and began to burn those bodies closest to her. The stench of sizzling flesh stung her lungs and eyes, but she didn’t pause as she raced to set more of the fallen ablaze.
The battle had been fast, but not fast enough. She tried to cry, but the tears were too tired to come. As the moon rose, so did the fallen. She could only set herself on fire. One fewer for the enemy.
Claire wore many hats. She absolutely loved them, switching between them multiple times every day, but it was always the shoes that she was deathly afraid of. She could be mom, wife, daughter, confidant, friend, enemy, goddess, and demon, but when it came to shoes, well, then she felt she had to pretend to be someone else.
That’s why she decided one day to just go barefoot. It meant sometimes stepping on things the wrong way, freezing her toes, or just having her feet absolutely filthy, but they were always hers, and she could sleep well at night knowing that.