A perspective of war It was a sunny day, but she cowered in the corner, curled up in a ball.

The usually bright green grass was stained with blood, creating a small river of red, running down the hill. In the distance you could hear bombs dropping, gunshots, and screams. War is a wounded gazelle, being hunted down by a hungry lion. But then, just when everything is at its worst, the white flag goes up, everyone cheers, and she came outside and watched a dove fly over the mainland.