WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT
By Tomas Bravo
The memory is still fresh. I close my eyes and I can feel the tension. First the explosions… then the screams… then the silence.
The trickles of blood on the concrete make their way as small, red rivers to form a puddle, quickly dried by the sun. The bodies lie there, surrounded by police tape, waiting to be checked by forensic technicians. The prying eyes of the neighbors are fixed on the laughing police officers and the reporters who are speculating on the reasons for the execution.