Story

The Story I have written:

A bang of swords fall from above. Her face rises towards the sky, under the heat of the sun. Her skin burned; roasting her skin. She was barefoot, jotting along side the lighting bolt shaped crack that had split up her country. She was surrounded by the desert with the heat absorbing every last of her saliva. The chunky air entered her windpipe, collecting dust in her throat, making it hard to swallow. Every injury on her body lost their meaning at this time. She ran on, as if following a trail to the past.

To the past of cheering people, sitting under the umbrella all day selling fruits. Apples, oranges, round and healthy stacked one on top of another and a fair cheap price on the bottom. She used to juggle the fruits for entertainment. The peace was disturbed by the high pitch cry of horses, marching into the middle and tore up everything. There was not a spark of hope to the country. Its remains soon decomposed into the ground. Not one person was left.

Raindrops fell onto the boiling land, cleaning the surface of the desert. Permelice opened her eyes, her face colorless and wet. She re winded her mind to reality. Getting stiffly to her feet, she attempted recognize the scene. Bodies tossed among her were half decaying. The rain that fell on their faces to not bring back color to their face. She went around helping everybody with every way she could. Their limp bodies did not come back to life. A majority were becoming ashes.

It has been days after the conquer, why is she still alive? From then on, weapons followed her every footstep.