A light mist hung low over the green rolling hills. Everything looked peaceful at this early hour, but the old woman who lived in the shoe wasn’t fooled. Endless wars… vicious battles… bloody conflicts… life in the kingdom had never been more violent.
She walked down the cobblestone path in her yard and gave the freshly stitched flag a majestic unfurling before hoisting it up the flagpole.
A masterpiece, it wasn’t, but it would do. She was tired of the never-ending violence and was proclaiming her neutrality in this war-torn monarchy.
And now she had a flag to prove it.
The Weekday One Hundred 