Smoke rises through the crooked tress as clouds prepare to bomb the area with a hail of rain; the sun is nowhere to be seen, covered by the ever-increasing amount smoke rising from the ground. Will. They. Survive? Cautiously men walk through the war-torn forest expecting attack from any side. The sound of artillery is deafening like a giant pounding his fist against the ground; making men shake, but they stand their ground. The chorus of artillery sakes the ground; growing the storm of smoke that fills the sky adding to the tally of holes in the ground.
Trees cover the ground; some are flourishing with their green and red leave’s while others are just a husk of their former selves like a man bare to the bone. Other trees are crooked from war their leaves a spectrum of green; although. Dying some trees are, unable to withstand the weapons of war, the pounding of shells from the immobile guns.
Even man, the dominant creature on this broken earth, cannot withstand the power of the shells which rain down death from above nearly every second not even waiting to catch their breath. No weapon can prevent the destruction of the shell not even the new weapons of war. The shell will kill anything in range, and it does not have morality for the death it causes: a few of its targets include soldiers, trenches, machine guns, tanks and every other weapon you can think of. It is lifeless without a smell or any other human thing.
Green grass no longer grows, nor any colour now, not only due to the fall but to the daily fall of the explosive shell which comes so much now; the landscape turns deader and browner with the passing of every shell. Soon there will be nothing left but the husk of the odd dead tree, patches of brown mud and shell holes in the Earth…the land in time will become a wasteland ravaged by war.
Smoke still rises through crooked and broken trees, but luckily rain has stopped dropping from the clouds, which are no longer to be seen the sun has awoken from it’s sleep and shines as light as ever being a beacon of hope for all men in that forest. The immobile guns have stopped their barrage of death finally pausing to breathe; with that the storm of smoke clears creating a peaceful scene of which hasn’t been seen since the beginning of the War.
