[Laika]: 661.Contest Entries.Five Words.March 07

The last rays of the sun setting over the field of pebble were brutal in their honesty: they revealed the horrors of the day in an odd golden hue, glazing the piles of bodies - ours and theirs, equal in amount and gore - with liquid-like glow. This was the one moment the young lancer sitting in guard could let go of his battle-awoken paranoia and allow his constantly googly eyes and thoughts rest in the bizarre beauty only death could portrait. This painting of live, he thought, was the legacy of the slain soldiers, bringing a brief flicker of solace for those still living: reminding them, that even the longest day has an end, and that even the best fighter would eventually find his final peace in the golden dusk.