250 Words: The little boy and the fat man

The little boy and the fat man blew from a great height and ravaged all in the way
of their explosive anger.  Giants of their kind, like Godzilla after them, they moved
through the towns they had been sent to and proceeded to twist metal and smash
stones until buildings fell broken to the ground.  They marched for miles, razing and
reducing as they, in turn, took their targets apart with the same ease a knife slides
through butter.  All in a flash that left the remains burning with few left to fight the
flames.

Where they didn’t kill indiscriminately and instantly, their breath, filled with heat and
poison, burned dress patterns into skin, fused children to their tricycles and melted
eyes from their sockets (leaving the rest to cry gunk from the empty holes).  And
then it hung in the air, invisible to the eye, so that it could infect and distort bodies for
years to come.

They sat back after and claim to have saved lives by slaughtering thousands.  And
that they have seven relations ready to come and do the same.  That the graveyards
without tombstones they have made are preferable to fields of shining white and
identical gravestones that would be forged here and back home.  They make their
point in a devastating way, like fists the size of hams squashing ants.  And it is hard
to fight back when you are so appalled and when other events, though smaller in
scale, can be pointed to.