Smooth feet on the hot sand. A blackened sky raining ash. Fire erupting from every crevice. A land torn by strife. A mother, cradling her dead child. Soft footsteps as the wind blows. Sharp pebbles now. Dim figures on the prowl. Outskirts picked clean. A bride laments the loss of her love in battle. Dust flies in a flurry of emotion. Dead roses scatter their thorns. The vessels of those at rest shake with putrid light. A cottage torn to its foundation. A daughter regrets exchanging those who loved her best to those were best not loved. Dragging in the dust. Cinders and ashes christen the way. One cherished in flight and at rest now groveling in the dirt. A family’s marrow sucked dry. A sister begins to cry over her sorrow. Sprinting in the last rays of the sun. Leaping over those who would dare attack her royal person. Discarding the shadows like night before a flame. A hearth reignited as she swears an oath of vengeance. A queen laughs at her enemies, and grows brighter like the morning sun.
Wow this is really good. Really nice use of imagery and the story itself is very poetic, great job.