Mention of child (and general) death. This fic involves the Stenza so not nice things happen.
The Ghost Monument was a symbol that was known to everyone on the planet that was not yet called Desolation, even though the monument hadn't shown itself for over a thousand years. Carved and painted wooden figures of the blue box were given to babies when they were born, drawings were kept in pockets whilst travelling and gifts of food were left at the monument site, all in an attempt to appease the spirits of the monuments and to hopefully be granted their protection.
These symbols were gripped hard by the people fleeing into the countryside, leaving their homes and possessions behind, running for their lives.
A Stenza warship soared overhead, firing its guns at the town, sending showers of concrete raining down on the people not killed by the blast. A child cried in fear and despair but was quickly silenced by the sound of a gun. Those trapped in the town, listening to the echoes of solid footfalls march through the streets, prayed that the spirits of the monument would defeat the Stenza or take their souls painlessly and after death take them to where the monument dwelt in the times between its visitations to this realm.
A group of dust and tear stained figures climbed the hill up to the monument site and knelt, exhausted, at the entrance of the sacred enclosure. An elder walked forwards and passed through the sacred arch, lifting his arms to the sky as explosions echoed around the valley below.
"Please, spirits of the Ghost Monument. Please listen to our prayers and save us from the scourge of the Stenza. We are dying and our children are scared. Please, Ghost Monument, please help us."
Nothing answered in return.