Flash fiction time!!!
I'm actually quite happy with this piece.
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The sun's rays shone through the leafy canopies of the trees surrounding the meadow, producing dancing shadows in the wavering sea of flowers. Pollen and loose petals gracefully sailed in the air, their performance scored by a chorus of singing forest birds. This peaceful sanctuary teemed with life - a ferret scurried into his hole, and a huntress fox pawed the ground there in defeat. Butterflies fluttered in contest with the petals, cheered on by the wind. A playful fawn hopped to the meadow, and trotted right to a partially grassed mound - the grass was especially delicious there. Pieces of burnt and twisted metal stuck out from the curious mound - the grave site of some forgotten machine - and the metal glistened with the morning dew. Once, a long time ago, there was war here.
The birds' voices momentarily drowned in the roaring of a fleet of black helicopters passing overhead. Strange helicopters - thin as dragonflies, with twin lateral rotors, and two yellow eyes pitched in a wicked leer. Gunfire from somewhere to the side of the meadow borne an eruption of green foliage into the air - some shots aimed up at the helicopters, others across the meadow. The fawn fell down with several bullet holes in its side, and the fox ran off into the forest. Heavy metal boots crushed the grass and the flowers, and soon, a platoon of ten or twelve armoured men stood in the meadow, listening to the barking of their commanding officer.
A strange gust of wind blew leaves from the trees, and a cloud of red vapours settled in the meadow. The soldiers frantically fumbled with their helmets, pulling on gas masks and shutting their visors. Those that did not react in time fell to the ground, blood-streaked foam seeping from their helmets, arms flailing in spasms, bodies writhing. More shots sounded as the soldiers killed their own men to spare them from the agonizing yet prolonged death. However, it seemed that the enemy knew of this procedure - they laced the poison with flammable gas.
The sun's rays shone through the crooked skeletons of the trees surrounding what was once a meadow, producing ghastly shadows on the blackened earth. Ash and dust clouded the air in dead silence. This bald mound seemed devoid of any life - the charred muzzle of the ferret stuck out from the ground, caked with hardened froth. Dead bugs littered the ground. The half-burnt carcass of a fawn lay plastered against the metal - a machine ruined but alive with the spirit of war - and the metal glistened with blood. Once, a few minutes ago, there was peace here.
