He looked down upon his ragtag army of waifs and strays, born and reared in the streets, just like him.
Now they had organisation and purpose. No longer fighting among themselves, no longer squabbling over meagre scraps. He had brought them together, united against their common enemy.
From the rooftop he looked at the skyline of the distant metropolis. The tall, modern skyscrapers gleamed under the calm blue sky. This was where the war would play out.
Inside them the rich and powerful had only heard hints and rumours about the coming storm. Murmurs of a leader among the poor who had given up hope in negotiations and politicians and religious salvation. A boy who had decided the only way to achieve real change, real social justice, was through force.
Here, among the colourful concrete, he was king among his people. Now, the time had come to lead them to a new life where they could all live like kings and queens in the tall palaces of the rich.
Above him, clouds swirled and the sky grew darker.
Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story in around 150 words, based on the weekly photo prompt. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.
To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
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