Watching from my window

The village goth walked down the street, her black heels in hygiene shoe covers. The parade carried on down the hill till the kids got hold of rifles, a massacre unfolded gunshots and screaming people. The kids shot each other in jest, they aimed at the fields of sheep and giant rats and killed them all. A new landscape was sculpted with bodies and rivers of blood. A deep grey cloud hung over catching the death in the air.