memento mori

A new dawn fades. Rotting carcasses spread out on the battlefield. Some vultures wait. Flying high. Most are picking on the dead and some on the dying. The acrid smoke of burnt flesh mixes with the smoking ruins of chariots. Screams fill the fetid air. People with no legs left to walk on. People with arrows that have pierced their eyes, with swords that have gone right through their throat and stayed there. Some shriek as the laughing hyenas tear off their flesh. There is no escape. The dead are better off. For the rest, Death will come. In the form of a vulture, a hyena or maybe even an injured elephant that’s gone berserk. Hopefully, it will come before the Maggots appear. And then comes the dawn …