The Hero

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Everything was ready for the Fiesta. The town came alive with banners and colorful festoons. The people of Ronda were ready to welcome Spring.

The 500-odd inhabitants gathered around the town square. That’s when they saw the army jeep coming. It could mean only one thing. One of their sons was returning from the war. A hero. The crowd waited with bated breath to welcome whoever it was.

Uniformed men got out, and lowered the coffin to the ground reverently. Yes, a son had returned. He was a hero. A martyr.

There would be a funeral now, not a Fiesta.

This is written as part of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge – Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. Today’s prompt is the above picture.

Hope you enjoyed.