Beauty Will Save the World

The war had stolen the color from the sky and hope from hearts. Among the ruins of a city that now seemed a cemetery of rubble and screams, two children walked uncertainly. The boy, only six years old, held the hand of his older sister. Their eyes were full of fear and hope, as if their childhood had been stolen in the blink of an eye.

Every step they took brought them closer to a world they no longer recognized. Their home was now just a pile of debris and distant memories. There was nothing left for them in that place, only dust and the sound of explosions that, from afar, seemed to whisper of death.

"Let's go," said the girl, her voice trembling but determined. "We’ll find help."

They slowly approached a corner where, among the wreckage, they spotted a figure lying on the ground. A man. His body, covered in dust and blood, seemed abandoned to fate. His injuries were severe, yet, despite the evident pain, the man tried to rise, driven by a strength that no longer seemed to belong to his battered body.

"Don’t... don’t stay here," he said in a broken voice. "You’re too small... you need to... go away."

The girl looked into his eyes. "We can’t... we can’t leave you here," she replied. But he slowly shook his head.

"You don’t have time," he whispered. "The war... the war will take you away. But you... you are the future. If you can escape... escape."

A sudden explosion shook the ground, and the man, despite the pain, jumped up. With a strength no longer his own, he bent down and, driven by a primal instinct, grabbed the children, pushing them under a broken bench.

"Stay here," he ordered, his voice torn by pain. "Don’t move."

Another explosion, closer now, made the ground tremble. The flames were approaching, and the smoke filled the air. The man positioned himself in front of the children, shielding them with his body as bomb fragments flew around them. Each blast seemed to take away a bit of his life, but he did not move. It was his mission, his last battle.

"I won’t let them touch you," he whispered, blood dripping from his forehead, but his voice betrayed no fear, only extraordinary determination.

The boy, clutching his sister, trembled. "I don’t want to die," he murmured.

"You won’t die," the man replied with superhuman effort. "Don’t let death win. The war doesn’t belong to you. You must live and save the world!"

The boy asked, surprised, "Us? Save the world? How?"

"Beauty will save the world," the man said.

That phrase, spoken as the chaos around them seemed to swallow everything, remained etched in the children’s minds more than anything else. The man continued to protect the children, but his body was now giving out. The last explosion was the most violent. His body was shaken by a fatal blow, but he did not move from that spot, clinging to the bench with all his strength.

When silence finally fell over the devastated area, the children remained under the bench, in a protected corner. The man who had protected them, who had given his life for them, now lay motionless.

They didn’t know how much time had passed, but finally, some soldiers arrived, searching for survivors. The children were found, shaken but alive. Tears flowed endlessly, but the man’s words, those they had heard in that terrible moment, remained in their hearts like a beacon.

"Beauty will save the world."

Even though the man was no longer there, his sacrifice would never be forgotten. And in the hearts of those children, now grown, that beauty would become the strength that would guide them for the rest of their lives. Despite the war, despite the losses, despite everything, they would carry forward the message of that man who, even in death, had been able to see the light in a world that seemed to be losing all hope.

And that light, that beauty, would truly save the world.

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