I stood out in a field covered by the long grey grasses and the sky was an inverted eggshell, a dome, painted by heavenly forces whose armies now marched, for I could see them marching on the lightning which flashed behind those grey and black clouds and I heard their war-cry, which rumbled and rocked the stillness.
They charged across the sky, from above where I stood out towards the infinite horizon, and returned and criss-crossed the entirety of this aspect of their creation, and the hooves of their warbeasts shook free their riders' tears, which dropped in sheets along the ground, and the ground and I were drenched from that weeping.
And as abruptly as it began, and as quietly as it had been loud, their charge was done. All that was left of their presence were those dark citadels in the sky, and a cold wind that whipped through, and left me shivering.
4 comments:
I keep reading this post without being able to comment. Maybe I feel as drenched and shocked from the ferocity of the thunderstorm as you describe.
It was last night, actually, and I was in bed, not standing on a plain. But it sure did sound like the world was ending...
This is so... so..., I don't know how to explain this ... its sounds more like painted words than written...
Fitèna
And there I was going to offer you my coat since you were shivering...
Like Fitena said, painted words, I like that :).
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