Reading Nook

"Evan Rosier is dead!" His father shouted, his cane coming down onto the floor harshly.

Silence is what ensued next.

Barty stood there grin now dropped. Realization settling into his chest constricting everything.

And suddenly his heart was gone. Ripped from his body.

It felt like his lungs were being squeezed by rose vines.

Evan was dead.

Rosie was dead.

"Who?" Was all he managed to get out.

"Moody. It was fairly easy. Pathetic really."

In a second Barty had his wand to his throat, his eyes are cold. No more light grinning or smirking.

"Hold your tongue. Or I'll take it."

Barty's father stares at his son before nodding.

Moody was in for a certainly cruel death. Oh yes not even the devil would be able to save this man from his son.

This man had plucked the rose and was now getting the thorns.

I have never heard the boots ring, nor seen the field smoking.

And yet my mind is drowned in trenches, bombs, bullets, and casualties.

What kind of war could be justified against a child to leave such carnage?

What crime against the future of humanity did the mind of a child form to justify these wounds?

Why is there a thousand yards behind the eyes that have never even seen the sea?

Ever door slammed is like a firework to a veteran.

Every shout like a car's backfire.