Consuming the harvest
Consuming the harvest was not based on conservation.The locust ate at night. They fed on the dead that had come to past.
Balance was highly unnecessary for the dead black fields provided no comfort.
Barren as they were blackened flowers only wilted to the sound of darkened drums.
Skeletons marched on the marsh as they witnessed souls being stolen from the graven earth.
“Fear the locust.” the commoners cried as blackness drooped from all corners of the earth.
Little children in dirty blue suspenders would clamber down the dilapidated broken white steps. This was Arabic marble and had been glossed over with a silver sheen. The sheen kicked up the reflection of the dirty children with the blue suspenders.
The meaty stench filled the air as the skeletons walked forward. There were no screams only heavy purple fog that blanketed the western front…
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