A Red Rose

It was a peaceful day. The people were going to their daily workplaces. Suddenly, there was an explosion - a colossal one.The people ran helter-skelter all over the streets in a frantic but vain attempt to outrun the massive shockwave that had been generated by the huge nuclear bomb. Shells and small bombs started flying all over the city.
It was official. A war had begun.
Lucy had woken early that day, as usual. She immediately went out to water her flowers. These plants had been her constant income and dearest friends from childhood. Moreover, these plants – primroses, rose, tulips, jasmines – provided her and her father with a fair amount of hard-earned comfort. She remembered it was Jacques’ birthday. Smiling a quiet smile to herself, she plucked a flower for Jacques. When she bent down again to pluck another, she was startled by a sound. She turned back to see a dark object obscuring the horizon. She heard a horrible hiss, a deafening crash, and she knew no more.
When Jacques came, he was surprised to see a red rose at the gate, tattered and torn to bits; for Lucy never grew such expensive flowers in her garden. Yes, she grew white, but red? It was only when he went inside, albeit with a sense of apprehension, that he saw the damage, the destruction. It was only when he saw the love of his life sprawled on the ground; with a tainted dress; only when he saw her with a white rose in her hand; stained red, red, blood-red by her lifeblood; only then did he know what he saw.