Sing, little birdie, sing
sing to the setting sun
Echoes of song, a distant voice. The clash of battle behind it.
Sing, little songbird, sing
Lift your voice to bring them home.
More sounds could be heard—a cacophony of explosive booms and writhing screams; moaning dead and mourning song.
But still, not a thing could be seen.
The sun's falling, falling, falling
Gold merging with the dark
There was no land, no speaker, no wielder of weapons. Nothing but the dissonance of sound in the background.
Footsteps marching down wide roads
Ambushing nightfall
Worlds torn apart.
Some new sound was arising amid the discord, unseen. It was another voice, harsh and commanding, tearing through the fragile strands of melody.
So sing, little birdie, sing
Stop next sun before its fall.
The music continued and this time the words were tantalizingly close. So close, so close! But the rasping voice overruled it. It chained it down, beat it to the ground. Forbade it from continuing on. It shouted and continued to shout, shaking the faceless earth with its omnipotent grip. And then the sounds faded, battle and all, as though fear had driven a new respect for the Shouter. And because there had never been anything there to see at the start, nothing now remained. Absolute, cold nothing.
YOU ARE READING
Flight
FantastikBook 1 of the Land of Green and Gold Trilogy Escape. That had been Max's goal since the day he and his little sister, Lucy, had been torn from their mother and sold to a new master. A goal that would whisk Lucy away from the hard labor, skimpy meals...
