Piece of Mind #3

Don’t read this unless you want to read a crappy story.

The bright yellow sun rose, peeking light through the forest and wild flowers as they were blown lightly by the wind. The intensely blue sky was riddled with several fluffy clouds, an indication of fair weather. The sun rose above the trees, the light was soon directed to the ground, revealing the bloody mass of dead bodies upon the ground. The ground was encrusted with black oxidized blood, flies swarming around the bodies, many body parts were cut off from their original. On few bodies that still have skin, the faces show the utmost horror, an eternal scream captured on the day they were murdered and killed savagely. The sun rose high to shine its light upon a great tree, into a gap between it’s roots where a boy lay, covered in dirt, clothes so torn you would not even have noticed if he was naked. He had a belt around his waist, with several sheaths attached to it. A bow, a large quiver with arrows, and a few daggers hung from the walls of the roots. Animal bones lay around him, charred meat still stuck to some of them. The boy stood up suddenly, woken at the tiniest sound, a ferocious and malicious expression replacing his peaceful relaxed face. He dropped all the daggers in their appropriate sheaths, grabbed his bow, one arrow taken from the quiver on the root wall, drew back. Equiped in less than 5 seconds, the arrow whistled threw the air and hit the person with a thud. There was no time to even make a sound, the person was dead before his body fell to the ground. The boy grabbed his quiver and ran quickly to the person, yanked the arrow out of his punctured heart and broken ribs, he wiped the blood off the arrow onto the grass, and looked upon the face of his intruder. His friend’s suprised face stared back at him, the boy frowned and his face darkened. He trudged back to his tree root cave, and put his weapons back on the root walls. The boy did not know who that person was before he shot his arrow, if it had not been a friend, he would have been dead if he did not shoot at all. The boy turned his face and stared at the root wall. He couldn’t bear to smell the rotting flesh and the see the pool red blood of his friend. The boy closed his eyes, but he never slept.