Bloody Sunday

Jeers filled the air along with rocks and whatever other objects the protestors could find. The black and tan clad soldiers stood resolutley at the other end of the square, accepting any blow without the slightest break in discipline.

One man shimmied up a telephone pole and hoisted a makeshift Irish flag around and hurled obsceneties down at the British. Rocks continued to fill the air as the tensions hightened.

A molotov cocktail suddenly arced high above the crowd towards the soldiers, the deadly bomb seeming to freeze in midair as all eyes gravitated to its deadly trip. It exploded on an unfortunate soldier who fell immediatly to the ground screaming, trying desperatley to smother the flames cooking him alive.

The square grew eerily silent for just a moment, and then chaos erupted. A nervouse soldier fired his rifle into the crowd and panic quickly ensued.

People were shot, trampled, and beaten as everyone tried to escape the square all at once.

This would be one Sunday that no one would soon forget.

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