I just got this idea when waking up so I wrote these couple of paragraphs at breakfast. I don't expect any good comments, haha. But pretty useless to write something if no-one reads it, right?
Oh yeah, perhaps some of the expressions might sound odd, or could be better, but English isn't my mother tongue.
The story is not finished (people who saw my other thread here: I have inspirational problems, esp. with the main idea of a text), but what the hell, this is as far as I got:
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It was like a painting. No, more like… a dream… a nightmare. A painter wouldn’t be able to evoke the sinister atmosphere, the absurd image his eyes came to process right now. It was so unreal and grotesque that his senses - once they've reached their limit of everyday, sane interpretation - did not even question their observations anymore, presuming it was all a vision. No other option.
The bright firmament forced him to close his eyes at first, then making him look around with blurry eyes. He was standing on dry, flat grassland. Although he couldn’t look directly up into it, he was right under the scorching eye of heaven, who on this day ruled the sky alone. No clouds whatsoever. It looked like there were hardly any clouds here, ever. Pity, he thought. He felt his body started to suffer from the relentless heat already. He barely had a shadow to chase. As far as he could see, the land he was on altered in nothing but the same land. As his eyes became used to full daylight, his gaze turned sharper, his observations widened…
What bothered him most was the fact that he was standing on a heap of dead bodies. Mostly human, ofcourse. Perhaps some horses as well. It wasn’t always to tell from the corpses themselves, as many of them had rotten away until nothing but meaningless piles of bones were left. The armors, weaponry and clothing that stuck out here and there, made a clear indication on the occurred event. At least, that’s what he thought. As his gaze lifted from the ground and followed the patchwork of bodies in the distance, he came to realize that he never saw actual ground. All of it… it was a blanket of bones, rotting flesh and corroding iron.
As far as his personality goes, misanthropy was one of his greatest virtues, according to himself. After he turned around once again, to behold the mass grave around his feet, a hardly noticeable smile danced on his lips. Yet even he wasn’t free of fear, despair or doubt. His eyes were still wandering more and more in the distance. Once his glare met the thin line between sky and earth, it froze. He made a full turn, closely paying attention to the horizon. He did this twice, to make sure. He lifted an eyebrow in wonder, and the pleasing expression disappeared from his face. The horizon wasn’t flat, it was rather a quiet, small skyline… bones and weapons sticking out and scintillating in the sunlight.
That was beyond his expectations of war and mass murder. He started to feel uncomfortable – something he had hardly felt before. This wasn’t normal, even to his standards. He had always wished for the existence of the unnatural, but now that things got out of possible human proportion, fear began to grow…
