Tale of the Week 10 - The Winner
One man stands alone...
Pontifex, (who would like to have his name in that colour) succeeds with
his story in a most irregular duel and takes another well-deserved victory to his gallery!
Here is the winning tale:
Grave of Liquid
The swelling waters of the river, tainted with the blood of fighting men, laps along the banks of the stream. Not far away, the earth had shook as battle was waged. Eventually, the loyalist forces broke, and were pursued in all directions as they fled. Some men launched themselves headlong into the waters, only to be swallowed up as their heavy mail sent them screaming to the bottom, only a trail of bubbles left to give evidence of their entry.
The river became a crypt, so vile and filled with rotten flesh that for some months after the battle, if one were to gather the water in one's hand and drink of the cool liquid, the twisted taste of sour flesh would permeate itself in the mouth.
If stagnant pools were to form by drought, the bodies would serve as a breeding ground for many sorts of foul insects and reptiles, making full use of the sustenance decomposing flesh contains. It is by death that live is born, and even as the maggots gorged themselves on the flesh of soldiers, peace was established throughout the land, and from this peace, hope and prosperity sprang anew.eventually the stream flushed the rot out, and the waters were once again live giving. Flowers appeared on the banks, reeds blew in the wind. A generation had crumbled, but given birth to a new one in it's wake. The earth rebuilds itself from the ground up, and the clicking of the grasshoppers in the field cast a peaceful pall over the landscape.
Had this once been a field of combat?
Originally Posted by Gerd von Rundstedt
