There wasn’t time for it to become clotted, much less encrusted.
First responders were there within a few short minutes which would feel like the longest length of time in any of their short lives.
They crouched and hid, they fled, they shook and trembled, they screamed and cried, they comforted each other, they texted their parents. They video recorded mass chaos and rapid gunfire. They witnessed the bullet ridden, bleeding bodies of their classmates, friends and teachers as they lay dying. Some of them wounded, bleeding as they skirted more bullets. They looked death in the eye and faced down the devil.
As they fled the building, the school where they’d gone to learn about how to live, they raised their arms above their heads, locking hands in a sign of surrender. Backpacks abandoned, identities temporarily vanished, they were fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen or eighteen years old. These are the survivors of the latest of the mass murders comitted against we Americans by other Americans.
This is color that spurts and spills out of their arteries and veins onto the classroom floor.
This is the color that alternates between the white and the blue. It has spilled into the sidewalks, streets, schools, shopping centers, malls, gas stations and just about any public venue one can imagine. This color is on the hands of those who wield the weapons of war on innocent civilians. It’s on the hands of those who support those weapons by any stretch of the imagination.
But let’s not be mistaken about the color of which I speak. This color is strong. It courses through the veins of those who survived. It’s beating through their hearts, pumping fresh, young, highly oxygenated energy into their lungs, giving unending voice to their grief, sorrow and frustration. It won’t be quieted, this color. It is brilliant and shining and full of the optimism and the wonder of youth. This color fuels creative thought, solid ideals, strengthens resolve, the motivation to move mountains and the courage to change a nation.
These youth are the color of America. Our hopes, dreams and our entire future rests with them. We have done our jobs well, for look at them now, far outweighing, in numbers, the few who’ve wielded those weapons. And on they will march.
I have every trust in them to affect the change we all seek, a more peaceful world in which to live.
I brokenheartedly, albeit, with fervor and enthusiasm join them in their quest.
Writing Group Prompt “Write about a color without naming the color.”
WordPress Daily Post Prompt: Encrusted