#v.1990

Breath, white and curling upwards, escaped into the air. Pinkish stars dusted the soft, indigo night sky, a pleasantry against the gunshots that rattled through the air. Soft sand, overcast with the cold sea and foam, was not untouched. The waves slid onto the beach and back, droplets flicking out at the few figures stumbling through the night. Gloved hands curled around the cold, metallic gun, shifted high. A light flickered at the end, showing the way for those following the one at the front. Their feet sunk into the sand as they stumbled up off the beach. A small truck, with another boy standing in front of it, was just at the end of the street.