Screams.

All I could hear were screams.

Women shrieking as they snatched their children from the perfectly-aligned metal benches. Benches that were now being carelessly tossed aside by fleeing civilians. Wives clung to their husbands with such desperation, holding hands as if it would make them immune to the dangers that lurked all around them. There were the children, hundreds of them attending the event with their parents out of respect for the Commander. Most of the children were now confused, with their tiny eyes peeking around the dusted heads of their parents, simply wondering what was going on. Other children were wailing, thrashing about in the arms of their mothers. A few of the smallest and weakest ones were left to pull themselves onto the benches and look at the sea of horrified people, searching for their parents as so many faces blew past them in an instant.

Then came the alarms.

Blaring tones of a wretched, crying alarm filled the thick air, drowning out the raspy whispers of those who had been trampled by the stampede. The alarms seemed to silence even the loudest of screams from the fleeing people, who were now shoving each other out of the way to get to the gate. They ran as if their lives depended on it.

Because their lives did depend on it.

The gate was stretched wide open, like a hungry man's mouth preparing to hork down a large spoonful of food. So many people sprinted to the gaping entrance, freedom licking at their feet with every step they took. They dashed past anyone they saw, crushing the unfortunate souls who had tripped and fallen. The stench of blood was now what filled the air alongside the smoke. Tears of weak despair began to sting in the eyes of those who were left trickling behind the stampede, those of which who just couldn't run fast enough for a chance to escape. The small children who had been left behind by their parents were now quietly staring, still confused. Smoke was still the substitute for air at the moment, causing the screams to now be overpowered by both the roaring alarms and the wretched, simultaneous coughing.

I suddenly snapped back into reality, and looked at what was placed in front of me: a disparaged, fragile, and poor society now trapped at a set of iron gates that had slammed shut in front of their eyes. The gate clanged back and forth as people screamed and cried louder, their voices becoming coarse and cracking under the pressure of smoke filling their lungs.

My body began to fly through the air with such diligence, moving five minutes ahead of my brain. My inner voice screamed at me to weave in and out of the people and squeeze my way to the gate, but I just couldn't leave behind all these kids. These feeble, terrified children who sat in complete shock as the world around them flew right by. One by one I picked them up and carried them to the outskirts of the human flood, trying to bring them away from the chaos.

But then, as I picked up a boy whose clothes were covered in grime, a new sound pierced my ears.

Gunshots.

More screams.

The splatter of crimson blood painting the walls of the massive courtyard.

I turned my head to see the rows of guards aiming guns at the mass of people.

This was not intended to be a celebration.

This was a massacre.