Danielle gazed at the overgrown green mounds where she and her family had lived in until it was safe. She had vowed never to return, but relented when she heard that so many others would be at the reception.
Before that day no one would have believed that their sleepy little town mattered to international terrorists. Greenvale was a farming community. Most people worked simple jobs, shopped at the Piggly Wiggly and spent Friday evenings at the Dairy Queen after high school ballgames. They didn’t even have their own airport or bus station. To access these amenities they had to drive two hours to the city. And yet, they were ground zero for the first chemical attack on US soil.
Each surviving family had received official invitations with promises of funding for those who wished to rebuild and resettle in Greenvale. The old high school gym was full of chatter, laughter and memories of those that were lost. Danielle reconnected with several school chums and neighbors. When it was time for the program to begin, everyone was asked to take a seat.
As the room grew silent, several armed soldiers entered the building, bolting the doors from the inside.
kat ~ 8 June 2016
A Story for Sunday’s Photo Fiction Challenge based on the photo by Al Forbes above.