My entire body was completely still. I crouched near the man's head, motionless, as if paralyzed. Nothing moved... except for my hands. My hands were still shaking. Violently convulsing, and whether it be from adrenaline or guilt, I couldn't tell. Slowly, I removed my fingers from their tight grip around the glass shard. As soon as I did, blood began to pour from the gashes my make-do weapon had made in my fingers and palm. With a clinking sound, the bloody window fragment fell from my hand and to the cold cement ground. My eyes drifted towards the face of the man before me. His eyes were closed, however the blood and bruises that covered his cheeks and forehead made it nearly impossible to get much else from his appearance.

I sat back into the hard ground, legs spread with my hands lying in between them. One thought had gone through my mind as I stared at my attackers lifeless body. One thought circulated consistently as I watched the red liquid drain from his neck. "There's so much blood..."

I ran my tongue over my lips and tasted the warm metallic liquid. In little time I had turned myself over and began expelling the contents of my stomach. The bile burned my throat and nose. Tears pushed over my lashes and streamed down my cheeks. The smell of the air was putrid. I found it hard to breathe as I had tried to crawl further from the dead body lying beside me.

As I attempted to haul myself away, I looked down at my hands. They were still shaking, only not as violent now. A trail of red had been left where ever my hands made contact with the ground. While I stared down at my blood covered hands, tears began to cascade down my face and I realized, it wouldn't matter how long I scrubbed them, I was never going to get this blood off my hands.

I walked the earth, through the blood, through the bile. This is where it ends. Father knew we would not win. It had been prophesied that Heaven would win, but that did not mean we would give up the fight easily.

This was war.

The massacre widespread, blood stained the dirt and infiltrated the water. I, the oldest of the Fallen children, walked by my father's side. Tall, red skinned, long black hair, he was the pure essence of evil. My sisters followed suit behind us. My bow slung across my back, long sword sheathed on my hip.

This was war.

As we advanced on the beautiful angels, we knew that our time had come. Unsheathing my sword, I drew it across the ground. Drawing the sign of my people, hoping that it would continue to be a sign seen on this earth, we declared the final battle.

This was war.

A battle cry left my throat as I ran to the arch angel Gabriel, and swung my sword, slicing him in two. The blood spewed on my black war dress. My red eyes lifted up as my sisters continued in my wake, defeating the angelic forces before us. Father hung back, he knew as well as I that we would not win. It would be over soon.

But this was war.

We would never give up. We may lose, the earth may have an angelic host as its ruler, but we would never give in. The blood rained on the humans below. There was a massacre going on there as well. This was all in vain, God would win.

This was war.

It was then that I saw it. Him. The Lord of Lords. Jesus and I had to fight. I knew he would win. But I could not give in without a proper fight.

After all, this was war.

My sword in my hand, his in its sheath, this would be over quickly. I swung, his majestic hand caught the blade, shattering it at his touch. The flying pieces threw me down. As I looked up at him, my time had come. He put his hand down on my back, and then... it went black.

A beautiful orchid of blood red tree leaves were stained with the innocent pink flowers of spring. The soil under all but two trees was disturbed as if the soil has been dug up and put back down. The last tree was for me once I was finished with what I had started. A void was already created under each of the last two trees in preparation for when I would return.

I came, dragging it with me and leaving behind a crimson trail. While humming a merry tune, I deposited it into the hole. I fill the hole quick and neatly; then make sure to hit the top of the filled hole a few times with my shovel. The song I hum becomes even more cheerful as I mutter to my self. "It is my time now, my time has come." With a smile on my face I lay down in the final hole. I bring the dirt up and over me until now I am fully covered. Everything has come full circle like the seasons. I have joined the rest of the people I buried under the cherry trees. The last flower has fallen and died accompanying us.