Of the 13, he was the last to survive. Standing quietly behind a tree he watched a young pregnant woman spit on the grave before walking defiantly away. Interesting he thought, clearly this man had made his mark upon many.
Once the group of mourners dispersed he knelt on the fresh earth feeling hot tears fall upon his cheeks. The sun blazed above him and birds chirped joyfully in the trees; it was a day to rejoice life yet a pact was a pact so before courage could slip away he bit hard into the capsule and awaited his inevitable fate.
The prompt for this weeks #100wcgu was …the 13… and/or the photograph above. In which direction would you have taken it?