From within the heart of the forsaken village, the sleepy sun creeps out from the silent clouds it had been hiding behind for the past few days. Skies are blue, but only just, as the rain only fell yesterday, pouring onto the pavements below. The sun's shining streaks plaster the stony ground, creating light, dusty shadows of the villagers; their never-ending work continuing throughout the day. Children from the village play on the cobbles, darting and weaving in and out of the few passers-by on the quiet streets, chasing after each other without a worry in the world. The smiles on their faces light up like the morning sun, happiness glowing from within. Something that is unusual in this village, that only comes around once in a while.
Summer is coming.
The gentle flowers spring up from the bed of grass, like a rainbow of colour after the downpour of rain. The smell of the water still lingers in the soft air, mixed with the many scents of sweet flowers, powdered across the fields. Winter has come and gone, and spring has done its job. Dew still mounts on the blades of grass, jade in colour, wetting the tips of your shoes, leaving a cold sensation while it silently seeps into the holes of your worn out soles, bringing back the memories of the last bleak winter. The winds were blustery, the snow fell like it never had before, replacing the village with a layer of thick white dust. But soon that was demolished and was exchanged for something much brighter.
Summer is coming.
Deep in the preserved meadow begins the duty of the birds. Their desire of food needs to be seen to. Their offspring desperately chirping in need of food to fill their emptiness. Hunting anything they can, the birds return with a small amount of seed, meat or wood for their nest; all three was a rare treat for them, just about scraping by with usually only one. Once again, the sun bursts through the canopy of trees, just letting in enough light for surrounding woodland animals and villagers to get around. The mild light bounces off the meadow floor, and continues throughout the trees, radiating the chicks resting in the nest they were snugly sleeping in.
Summer is coming.
Forgiving its haunting past, the meadow's trees expose the innocent village that lay neglected and condoned. The people that once ruled this remote community are gone but never forgotten; the power to forget is stronger than the power to forgive. They'll never forget the horrors that were once here. Never will the children forget, nor the adults or elderly. These scars will stay with them, through the wind and the rain. Through the sun and the hail. Through everything. There was beauty once, there was fellowship. Then with the willowing trees, and the lingering breeze, it disappeared.
A war is coming.