When the ancient wars shall return
To plague our sorrowful fields
And man and beast entwine in death.
Be fearful of the dreaded day
When havok wreaks its way
Across the skies
Plummeting to the ground.
Despair the moment
When the ground should grumble
With the sound of many
Sending forth its killers.
If the tall one should turn his head and yell
Before the final end
Silence will steal the night
And the devil should not send forth his word.
If, however, a small child turns to cry
For fear of what he can never have
Messengers will fill both land and sky
Guilt shall fill both man and beast
And all of beast shall die.
Around, hidden under trees and behind bushes, the hundreds of other trophy hunters held their rifles in determination. Hushed whispers floated by about different hunts of stories, nay, legends of what they were about to witness.
Grimble knew that at least half the stories were true too. Not the stupid ones about disappearing sheep or eaten children, but probably some of the sitings were real. Every hunter had been poised for action for two hours now and those who held little belief had left an hour ago. Still, a large amount of hunters and rich people were left, those who were totally committed.
A tiny humming sound started in Grimble's right ear. He moved a hand to swat a fly only to find there was none. He was suddenly brought to his senses and he jumped back onto his haunches, they were coming.
No one would have noticed the noise yet but soon it would become a roar which would fill the skies and they would fly over in the hundreds, thousands even. He lifted his gun to his shoulders, people around him started lifting theirs too in anticipation. They probably heard nothing still but HE was lifting HIS gun.
HE was the expert on them, the creatures. He'd seen one once, he'd heard the humming then too but it had only been one. A lone single red one with giant wings flapping up a breeze below it. He wanted to bag a red one, oh how he wanted to bag a red one.
The humming was louder now and more gunmen around him started to hoist their guns up too. Hundreds of gunpoints in the air. Hundreds of expectant eyes scanning the skies. Hundreds of hands poised on the trigger.
And then they swarmed over the sky. Millions of colours, red, blue, green, purple. GOLD! And silver too, but the GOLD. Instantly he changed his mind, he wanted a gold one. Their brilliance dazzled him.
Guns around him were starting to go off, then being reloaded as people became greedy and wanted one of each colour. Just one would suit him, as long as it was a GOLD one.
There must have been thousands of them, all making their way along the skies faster than bullets, the first lot had realised they were being shot at, they had turned around and were making their way back. Had to stop the shooting, had to save those who had already fallen.
Stupid, stupid, thought Grimble.
Those who had kept going turned around when they realised the others had. Some made desperate calling noises to their friends before also coming back. Others shrieked in pain as they fell or others nearby did, perhaps relatives.
More were falling, hundreds were falling. This didn't look good, too many were coming down, maybe he should call to stop the shooting.
Then the opportunity opened up right in his face, a lone gold all by itself crying pitiful noises. He aimed his gun and fired. The gold fell, and a man nearby him gave a loud yell.
But the gold was falling over the trees, in the next meadow, he'd bagsed a gold! He ran off, desperate to claim before someone else nicked off with it.
"Mummy, what's going on?"
"It's nothing baby, the loud noises wont hurt you."
"Mummy, something..."
"Leave it baby."
"But mummy."
"Shhhh..."
"Mummy, can I play in the garden?"
"No baby."
"Why not?"
"Just not now ok."
"I want to play in the garden." He ran outside towards the bright, glittery thing that had fallen from the sky and landed on the grassy meadow.
The gold moaned and looked at the child coming towards it and a tear fell down its cheek. So they would be doomed.
Grimble made it to the meadow and saw ahead of him a child staring at his gold.
"Hey little fella, shouldn't you be inside?" he asked the child.
"That's mine!"
Grimble turned around to see a long-faced man who was out of breath jog up behind him.
"No way mate, I shot this beauty," Grimble told him straight out.
"I know I shot it, I saw it and shot it. It's mine so keep yer filthy paws of it!" the man exclaimed.
The child sobbed and the two men turned to look at him.
"You're horrible, horrible, howwible, howwible!" And the boy ran off back to his home.
Grimble looked back down at the gold, the life taken from its eyes. In the background he heard the shooting and screams continue. A flash of inspiration came to him and he saddened. What had he destroyed, what had he taken away? The gold seemed to lose its beauty yet it remained the same.
He turned around and left, he found his horse secured and out of the firing where he had left it and he untied it and mounted it. He started the horse, and went off along the road. The shooting continued for a while and then suddenly stopped as the whole world went quiet for a whole minute. The minute was broken by an excited wealthy man admiring his catch.
A shout followed as the dead men were discovered, killed by the beasts who had only been defending themselves.
No more flew. All the yells had stopped, there were no more to scream. They had all fallen and could never rise again.
The sun set on a gray world.
They would never..... rise.... again.
