The war was over. Each day thousands of refugees staggered into the camp. Iliodor lay on a cot in the stinking barracks. When he coughed his body jerked, expelling bloody clots of phlegm.
“Who are you?” barked his interlocutor.
Iliodor coughed and spat into his face.
onthevirg 
I love how I can see this so well with so feel words. Nice take on the prompt. 😊
Thanks – not sure why I went in that direction but it seems to come together.
What a vivid picture you’ve painted.
I bet he’s wanted to do that for a while! Great take on the prompt.
This is a powerful and sad scene. So much hate.
Ooo a very tense scene and one likely playing out somewhere in the world.
Great word choices to paint the picture–active and vivid.
ha! way to go, Iliodor!
Thanks
The feeling of misery is so clear here. Nice work!
This one came out of left field – thanks for checking it out.