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Embers Dawn Along the Ashen Path 1:1
Embers Dawn Along the Ashen Path
Chapter 1 Section 1: Heat & Shadows
------ Story from the vault ------
Ashes,
Falling as if the sky was on fire, dripping down like rain extinguishing every ounce of greenery in the vicinity. That’s all that could be seen. The heat introduced itself, a witty companion & smoke an unpredictable thief. A harsh welcome on the battlefield, a reality that slowly kills the soul with visuals, questioning what is seen. The atrocities of ambition, the horrors of justice, in the eyes of celestial beings we are paint brushes on an empty canvas and red is the only colour we’ve demanded.
On this field of lost souls, I lay, the heat robs oxygen and leaves subtle notes of hope as gasping is heard in the smoke. I pity them, believing such things exist on the frontlines were men are reduced to produce. Subtle movements intensify the heat scorching the hairs on my skin. Awareness begins to resurface; this hellish scene cannot be the work of mortal men. With blurry vision and hurt pride disorientation invades bone & tissue as the ashes gives a slight sting.
The burning night sky was vacant of its prized possession. The moon creeped behind dark clouds, the stars vanished behind black curtains masking the horrors yet to be unleashed. Like a sixth sense chills rippled down my spine it urged “move”. Then I understood the reason why the moon and stars were tucked purposely, for the moments that approached the wounded were not prepared and fear triumphed the brave as arrows ushered us into the abyss.
© fruitfulodyssey
Chapter 1 Section 1: Heat & Shadows
------ Story from the vault ------
Ashes,
Falling as if the sky was on fire, dripping down like rain extinguishing every ounce of greenery in the vicinity. That’s all that could be seen. The heat introduced itself, a witty companion & smoke an unpredictable thief. A harsh welcome on the battlefield, a reality that slowly kills the soul with visuals, questioning what is seen. The atrocities of ambition, the horrors of justice, in the eyes of celestial beings we are paint brushes on an empty canvas and red is the only colour we’ve demanded.
On this field of lost souls, I lay, the heat robs oxygen and leaves subtle notes of hope as gasping is heard in the smoke. I pity them, believing such things exist on the frontlines were men are reduced to produce. Subtle movements intensify the heat scorching the hairs on my skin. Awareness begins to resurface; this hellish scene cannot be the work of mortal men. With blurry vision and hurt pride disorientation invades bone & tissue as the ashes gives a slight sting.
The burning night sky was vacant of its prized possession. The moon creeped behind dark clouds, the stars vanished behind black curtains masking the horrors yet to be unleashed. Like a sixth sense chills rippled down my spine it urged “move”. Then I understood the reason why the moon and stars were tucked purposely, for the moments that approached the wounded were not prepared and fear triumphed the brave as arrows ushered us into the abyss.
© fruitfulodyssey
