Inevitable Ashes... When war begins

The first time she felt the blood on her fingers, she wasn't quite sure where the wound was and checked her body for open cuts. She did not FEEL a single ounce of pain. One moment she had been walking home from the metro, and the next her hands were covered in bright crimson. A beautiful crimson. It WAS lovely. Funny. Her first instinct was to check the walls for red paint. Perhaps she brushed her hand along the wall? But the walls were a dull, grey, concrete, as was the ground. It was impossible. But she carried no sign of injury. The girl, who lived a relatively normal life, was puzzled. THIS ordeal was unusual indeed. She thought it odd how a certain excitement sizzled through her veins at the sight of blood. It was only blood.
But, then again, the girl wasn't one to witness spilt blood often. Oh, maybe a slight cut or two. But never any thing more. And yet, she didn't want to wash it off her hands. Instead, she wanted to cry. It was so beautiful. This was the blood that once ran through a vein. This blood gave some one life. Or maybe, marked their death. She had never seen so much warm, delicious, blood. And on her own hands! But... who did this blood belong to? The girl had no experience with BLOOD. She was young and naive and wore the unblemished beauty of the innocent. But what use have we for innocence? We only have it to get it snatched away from us in the end. What matters most are the things we see after our eyes are opened with force to see the world for what it is.
"Miss." A balding man about forty shoved the girl to the side. She was blind and deaf to his presence and polite words. He was another face in the crowd rushing past her. No, no. Ge was a BODY. She saw no faces. Faces showed no emotion in this city of selfish minds, immune to tragedy and death. Each one shared the same expression. The expression only revealed the urgency with which people hurried to their destinations: The desire to escape the streets to a place that was safer. But, in the end, the desire was never fulfilled. In the city, no place was safe. Street lights made each individual vulnerable to the eyes of others. And the daylight was no less penetrating.
"Sir." She finally looked in his face. Behind the thick veil, she managed to catch a slight sign of concern. It was faint, and only lasted a moment or two, but it held enough sway over her to make the girl consider his reason for speaking and listen to what he had to say.
"Should let you know: it should get a bit messy soon in this area when the cops arrive."
"Sir?" Cops. She had seen them from afar, but the men never approached her.
"Murder." Murder. An ugly word. It was heard on people's lips often, but rarely meant a thing to her. This time was different. Terror was an epidemic, and it seemed to enter her body at every opening to her body all at once, killing every thing alive. "Just down the street."
"Who?" Who, indeed. Who really wanted the answers? And who was asking the questions? Who held the secrets and used them as a weapon? Who was doing the killing? And who had deceased only to decompose into the awful earth below our feet where the world ends and hell begins?
The man sighed the sigh of one who has seen death occur on several occasions. So, why should this one be any different? Another heart has stopped beating, and nobody notices.
"Some woman with a white dress. It's quite a pity. She was somebody's bride." So the girl was painting a picture in her mind. A woman. A young woman. Perhaps as innocent as herself. It was a pity. "She was killed in a phone booth a little ways down the street, as I said. Must have been making a call. Looks like she was strangled with a phone cord and stabbed in the chest. Some insane son of a bitch is loose. Must have been a large man. Nobody small could have done that to her. Nobody. Never seen so much blood. God damn." A woman who reached her end on the cold concrete. That was what she lived for. She lived to be thrown onto that cold concrete with blood staining the front of her wedding dress. And all of those wedding bells ringing and the blood spilling. War: on such a promising day. The same day two human beings were married, a coffin was built in a pathetic bloody matrimony.
"That's awful. Thank you for telling me," The girl whispered.
"Heh. I see it all the time. Poor bitch, though... poor thing."
"DO you see it all the time? Isn't it hard?"
"I suppose. That's why I try to close my eyes. Good night miss, and keep safe."
"Good night sir." The girl turned to go. Go. Where? Nowhere. There was nowhere to go. The city can hide one from the world outside of the city. But one can not hide from the city itself and the demons that roam the street there. Demons. A place where the devil is always present. And on this night, the devil was laughing and preying upon the soul of the city. His smile could kill, as smiles do. And thousands were dying.
Yes.
Thousands were dying all over the city.