a million pains in the sand

[theravingderelict]

A bloodied beach, there are no bodies around, but there is blood in the once pure and white sand. It is obvious that a great battle took place here, there are footprints embedded in the sand, there is no other evidence in the sand to give any reason that bodies have been dragged or moved. Just blood. The waves are the only thing stirring, breaking the silence with tales of horrors witnessed, but even they do not dare present themselves as more than a ripple. The wind does not venture unto the scarred landscape of landslides and

 

This beach was not always like this, once it was a peaceful and tranquil place, an ideal place to at one with a greater being. There was never anyone else other than one person there, this person would sit upon the white sand that would warm him to the soul, just out of the waves reach, but the waves were soothing and deliberate, barely stirring the shells from where they lay. The lone figure would disturb neither rock nor blade of flax, just sit and observe.

 

Then out of a place only known as ‘Darkness”, footprints being to force their impressions on the sand, each on opposite sides of the beach, readying themselves for battle. The became air thick with an evil black filth that twisted and contorted into the million evil thoughts of a million evil men. The tension, suddenly too great, like the fragility of a feather in fire, overwhelmed the ethereal beings and the footprints combusted into motion, in a morbid race towards the centre of the beach, but still, no bodies seem to host the impure indents in the sand.

 

Once the footprints reached the centre if the beach the sacrilegious battle began. The blood began to fall, not in subtle drops but rather flowing like a tide of pain and hatred. Screams of agony and tortuous pain arise from where bodies have fallen, but still, there no marks other than the footprints. The lone figure notices all this, but does not scream and run, he does not venture down to where the battle has taken place in macabre fascination, he just sits, watching and observing the travesty before him. One solitary tear slides from his eye, down his cheek, and into the sand where it rests alone and eventually setting in the sand.

 

A bloodied beach, where I, the lone figure sit, watching the vast ocean in before me, the waves are mere whispering secrets that dare not make themselves present, the wind still cowering from the sheer magnificence of such a sacrifice. I sigh, the beauty and innocence gone, the dark clouds of pestilence forming above conjuring a storm of sorrow and misery, and now this is where I must exist, this is where I must live, this is my dwelling, this is my home, this is me.

Edited May 14, 2006 by theravingderelict