Touch No Evil

The morning sun tip-toed across the blood
drenched earth till it was courageous enough to
walk freely. Flies danced over the dead bodies
scattered across, blood still seeping from some.
Young boys, victims of war were walking to and
fro trying as they would to gather the spoils.
Watches, sunglasses, belts, whatever they could
get their hands on. Blister marred hands, bare
cracked feet, and horror filled minds moved
among dead soldiers, young and old, with guns
still strapped to their sides. Young and confused
these young lads were, young and confused. One
boy picked up seven bullet shells and ran to the
older ones to show them. They looked at him
with terrified eyes. One smacked the shells from
off his hands and said, 'Maybin', for that was the
lad's name, 'touch no evil.'.