I walked through the desolated battle field, a spectre from another era. Scattered throughout, the golden cases of deadly projectiles lay, waiting for Time to give them another purpose, to return them to the ground, to purge the artificial shape Man has given them.
In the distance, beyond another bomb crater, the carcass of an armoured vehicle lies. A tank, they called it. The belly of the beast was torn open, its insides still black from hellfire: A piece of armour turned into an open air oven.
I continued to walk on the shrapnel covered path. Up ahead, Time had turned a giant crater into a lake. The crooked, lifeless tail of an aeroplane pierced the surface of the still, grey water. One could tell, the landing hadn’t been pleasant. The fuselage was rigged with bullet holes of various calibre.
I kept on walking until I reached a vantage point. Before me was an eerie field of all things lifeless. Remains of guns, vehicles, cover, camouflage, and ammo plagued my field of view until the horizon… and beyond.
Regardless of why this battle was fought. Regardless of who fought it. Regardless of the cause each side fought for, and their respective righteousness. Regardless of the flag that, in the end, remained upright.
Then only victor here is Death’s scythe.
Little anti-war piece for this week’s moonshine, experimenting with a different POV. Since there is no conflict or tension, this probably doesn’t really qualify as a story. It’s not a ramble either, and definitely not poetry. I’m not really sure what to call this… Anyway, hope you guys liked it! Your opinions and thoughts are always much appreciated! Thank you for your time and attention.