Today marks the one month anniversary of the Norway massacre. Seventy-seven people were killed, seventy of those victims were youths at a summer camp on the Norwegan island of Utoya. It started with a car bomb outside the prime ministers office. That killed seven. Next a man dressed as a cop came to the island and confirmed the text messages that the youths had been recieving. He looked like an officer, but he was not an officer. After gaining the trust of the children he pulled out a gun and began open firing. Every body ran. Some begged for mercy, some hid. Others tried to swim the channel, and died trying, either they were shot or drowned. There was nowhere to go. Let's take a moment in a victims shoes.
I was in the back of the group, and I heard the gun fire up front. I heard kids screaming, and I got up and ran with the rest. I found my best friend in the crowd of screaming children. I've known them forever, we lived next to each other our whole lives. We ran together, down to the waters edge. We kept on running, splashing desperatly throught the water for our lives. It hit me then, we couldn't swim the channel, it was to big. I stopped my friend and we turned back only to see the cop. He held a big gun in his hands, it was shiny and black. Behind him and in front of him I saw bodies of kids and adults, blood staining the grass around all of them. I looked down and saw the brown water now had a reddish tinge. I heard more gunshots and looked over to see my best friends' dead face sinking into the water, blood swirling around him. I looked one more time into his eyes, and then he shot me.
Now let us take a moment to remember the victims of the massacre, on it's one month anniversery.
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