Silence wasn’t something to welcome. It signalled the start of
a futile search for survivors. Strewn across the once lush green fields was the
endless sight of carnage. Not one surviving groan could be heard across the wisps
of smoke from the smouldering corpses.
Covering his mouth from the overwhelming stench of death and
with a heavy step, Kyle began the grisly task of recovering dog tags and
weapons; ammo was dangerously low and he knew peace was just a respite.
Not many of the enemy had been hit but even one should be seen as
a slight victory; one less predator in the skies, one more chance of surviving
the pointless war.
Kyle looked to the mountains; the enemy’s unbreakable territory
where under the advancing shadows of dusk they came, flooding the sky with ferocious
fire and sharp talons that ripped flesh from bone.
Nothing stopped them.
But this was their land, their territory.
Kyle was the warring invader, sent on an impossible mission to defeat and
conquer for the riches and minerals buried deep under the mountains.
A dragon soared, silvery wings splayed as he circled over
the massacre, letting out a mournful cry. Kyle understood completely.
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Love the thought of post-apocalyptic dragons befriending the survivor. A different world x.
ReplyDeleteGreat shift in perspective from fighting the enemy to the commiseration! Painfully good imagery...
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