Carnage
A.N. This was written for a homework in English. We were shown a clip from a film and had to think of words that the clip made us think of, and write a descriptive piece inspired by it. This is a slight twist on the Arthurian Legend. The SHE mentioned is Morgana, and this is from Arthur's point of view. He never found out about Merlin's magic. Please review, anything is appreciated, I really want to get better.
As I stand here, on this hill, my mind is transported back to the carnage SHE caused, all those years ago...
Fog swirled, thick and heavy, around me, tendrils curling up towards the murky grey sky. The grass stood out, a vibrant green, a sign of life. The gentle rustle of the wind through the beautiful grass broke through the silence which had descended over the once beautiful field.
The grass was slowly becoming brown, streams of violently red blood trickled down through the vibrant green blades of grass, slowly staining them with their potent colour, turning them a muddy, murky brown.
The coppery tang of blood permeated the air, coating any tongues in the foul taste of copper, making those who tasted it gag in horror and disgust, the taste a constant reminder of what had happened.
Rotting flesh, the smell of decay, hung in the air. The unmistakeable stench of burning flesh, a musky, sweet scent, underlined with a charcoal like smell. The smell of burnt liver lay under the musky, sweet scent, tainting it, turning it into a mesh of charcoal, liver and an unmistakeable musky, sweet scent.
Mountains of bodies were littered haphazardly about. Sky blue eyes stared blankly up at me from the body of my best friend, face twisted into a grotesque mask of fear. Other eyes – blue, green, brown – gazed listlessly at the murky grey sky.
Bodies lay where they had fallen, limbs twisted, contorted into grotesque versions of the people they once were. Pearly white teeth, stained a horrific red by blood. Trickles of crimson blood flowed down faces, out of mouths, into the grass. Trails met to form crude patterns on faces, in eyes.
As I stand here, on this hill, years later, I hold a vibrant red rose, its stem riddled with thorns. I throw the beautiful flower out, watching as the wind catches it and I think that my father was right.
Magic is EVIL!
A.N. I hope that I did alright, please tell me what you think in a review, even if you hated it!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin, it is property of the BBC and Shine.