[Mister Saint]: 79.Contest Entries.Five Words April

          All across the palisade rained the incessant hail of cannon fire, consecutive shots raining parallel to the paths of their counterparts in bright orange, flaming lines. Sevet all but strangled the body of his fife, knowing that this was probably the last time he would ever breathe the free air of his home palace. The victory of the invading army was complete; it was but a matter of time.  And what could he, a lowly private musician, do? He was but an egg on a battlefield of dragons. His brain lacked the voltage for this 'war' business and everyone knew it. And so he lifted the fife to his lips, calming himself, resigning himself to the fact that his demise was imminent, his tenure amongst the human species finished. He played a melody of peace and joy, completely unaware that, even as he played, the shelling abated. The battle ended with the second verse.