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Sparta Forests - The Beginning
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Sparta Forests - The Beginning |
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maximillian Junior Member
since 2003-09-13
Posts 23 |
The Sparta Battlefield A world of anguish, malice and conquest its closest ally nature and its arch nemesis nothing less than nature also. Clearly the perfect place for war soon became the terrain, the battlefield. It became the destination for where the red of blood would spill to stain the tips of the green grass, while poisoning the brown soil with remembrance of the past and lost children of our futures. Distinctive was the huge century old oak tree, small were the humans that burnt it. Peeling away one by one its bark split like a potato cutter skimming all so roughly across skin. The tree, one of thousands, one of millions to be dragged face down to the mud for the better of man, would ask moral questions; should nature be left alone? Some would disagree. The message could not be sent more distorted, nature was the saviour of man, but it could and would be the killer of men, much is the 50:50 ratio and unclear image human life leads. The forest was huge, the tree’s long, their trunk’s a pale white colour, like an ill servant for which no one could care less about. Its branches wore like arms that couldn’t decide which direction to go in and eventually remained still without no decided movement. Such wasn’t so for Areneus, the tip of his index figure had lead to the deaths of many; he could not be faulted for his sense of direction. However, this direction had always been provided by his leaders, he was a trained soldier, moral question played no role in his life. "Yes, sir – Certainly, sir – I will prepare my troops at once, sir". His voice ancient by life long tone, his breath smelt of the sustained rotten aurora that he had at youth and brought with it, a sense of relentless ignorance. Areneus, was tall and lanky, among his men he looked out of place, he lacked the hard-knuckled physical appearance of his men below, but no one could fly better with bow and arrow. The men stood in rows, set by eight by four, to Areneus his attitude geared them as a statistic, to the men they were brothers of all kinds good and bad. It had been Areneus’ statistical views that brought the men closer together, a sense of harsh reality that shocked the men into the need for togetherness in troubling times. Their attire was tightly knit to the skin, a red ribbon broached on their sleeve. Chains for equipment lay abreast the floor as if they were the men resting against the soft ground as if rest would never come again. On the right shoulder, a hundred arrow’s lay spiked in a bag, its strength weighing down the soldier, splitting through the skin revealing at times the blooded bones that had been scarred by psychological destruction during war time. Life was everything, death was nothing. [This message has been edited by maximillian (12-10-2003 02:36 AM).] |
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Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia |
What an interesting and dark picture you paint. I look forward to reading more of your work. Kethry Here in the midst of my lonely abyss, a single joy I find...your presence in my mind. Unknown |
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