Vindicta Allegory I.

[MondayMistake 2]

Rivers of gore cling to the wounds of warlike tussle. 

 

With as depreciating a life as ever sour fruit, the denizens of Lan'reh endured constant agony in their physically secure homes. Every single day, burdened with the indomitable forces of endless sorrow, tortured with the inequity of penuriousness, the People strolled up the fresh-mown verdancy of Honeyhill onto the top of Injustice, awaiting their turn for a supplementary hardship. 

 

The Birth of Death

 

The horrid stench of a freshly-hung corpse clung to the ancient oaks of the Forest; everything was so tranquil, so peaceful, yet the Forest possessed a desolate, destitute aura. A chalky harvest moon struck the forest with a cold illumination. It seemed mocking to brighten such a depressing location.

 

A nearby bed of trampled turf shone with a carmine liquid: blood. Blood leaked from the decapitated trunk of a donkey as dead and motionless as a crushed beetle. Neighbouring the donkey’s carcass were a tetrad of sark-bearing humans, all attending to a roaring inferno that emitted leering smoke into the heavens to cruise away, propelled by the sheer force of Mother Nature. The humans tended the flame for hours; they appeared to be automatons designed for one purpose: labor. Eventually, the flame roared impressively and showered the soil with sparks. The soil surrounding the conflagration had begun to coil into ashen remnants of their erstwhile selves. The men stood a still as any sculpture. An eyrie drifted into the sky, supported by a great eagle’s talons. The uncanny display of silence tainted the air.

 

Three bushes parted to admit fourteen humans, dead, on the forest floor. Their hands grasped knives protruding from their chests. How? Why? 

 

When someone's life is hauled by one who we do not know beyond everlasting fields of wheat and peace, there is an alleviated, solacing aura he/she come to possess. When one's life is discontinued by those of their race and brotherhood, there is a yawning sense of perfidy… a lust for the undivided cosmos to have one mere elucidation: revenge.

Edited April 25, 2023 by MondayMistake
Some minor faults in the sentence structure.