It is early November. The trees huddle in copses, their leaves ablaze in hues of copper and gold for a final fanfare. Creeping mist crawls across the moor, reaching to the heavens to meet the leaden sky in an endless sea of grey. The harsh call of a solitary crow pierces the silence but I need no formal announcement. There are none here to hear it. Indeed, the men who lie at my feet have long since departed their earthly shells – I have already partaken of their ruin.
I walk among the fallen men, and wonder at their folly. The survivors have abandoned them, taking what dignity and pride they had left. No pennants snap and flutter in the breeze. No monuments will be built, the tears of their families the only sign of mourning. I lift my head and breathe deeply of the cold air; snow is coming, and soon the final traces of the battle will be buried until spring. The autumn has died along with these men.
The beginnings of winter stir in my soul and I shiver. Even I am not immune to the season. I think of the victorious duke, and the roaring fire in his great hall. His castle is well guarded, but I find that no fortifications can withstand me. I think I shall pay the duke a visit, and cut short his celebrations as his warmongering has cut short these wasted lives.
The crow utters a farewell as I slip through time and space.
Strange that Death seems to take no satisfaction in death.
Love how you led into this and flowed into Death’s perspective.
Such vivid scenery! Loved it, Icy.
I monologue like this from time to time no matter what my medication is. There’s a sinister comfort to it despite it feeling tranquil in the end.
Wonderful description Icy! Creepy, but in a hopeful way. Does that make sense? It makes sense in my head. Hmm.
Fantastic moody piece…like the idea that the Duke who wreaked this carnage will get a little visit from death!
This makes me remember how I felt the first time I saw The Seventh Seal — I wondered if Death got *bored* sometimes. Maybe so.
Great scene-setting — I could feel the weather in the story.
You create a wonderful mood with this piece and conjure for us such vivid imagery.
I love how Death becomes Justice, if only for an evening. Beautiful and poetic!
This was dark and strangely beautiful.
Ooh, spooky and atmospheric.
Shivery and gorgeous, Icy. The image of Death seeing lives wasted and choosing to cut short the life of the one responsible is new. This Death is one I’d love to see you explore.
This is almost poetic Icy, nicely flowing and easy on the eye.