So it had only been a few hours since morning. The morning. The morning where it all changed. How I wish I couldn't remember it - how I wish. But it stays in my mind like a bird stays in its nest, sometimes it leaves, but it always comes back.
How funny that I should be talking about it like this. It feels like it's been months, years since it happened, yet it was this morning. How funny.
Peaceful, the birds lay silent in the trees. Woman begin to walk out of their homes - shacks, really, but to them it's their palace - and place damp pieces of cotton outside to dry. The men leave to start hunting, there is a murmur in the village as the community begins to awaken.
Trees rustle twigs snap birds fly
People start looking around; this isn't normal. Is there a predator, a beast lurking in the shadows to steal their precious livestock?
Leaves fall grass crunches bushes tremble
If this is in fact a dangerous beast, they must be prepared. The men take out their hunting spears, the women and children return to their homes, peering outside to see what was happening. Was it a lion, a cheetah, only a gazelle?
Two men walk out of the shadows. The hunters sigh with relief and put back their spears, the women creep out of their homes. How silly they were to be frightened. But who were these men? And why were they wearing such strange clothes?
Hand lifts shots fly birds screech children scream men gasp women run
Ten, twenty, fifty more men slink out of the shadows of the trees surrounding the village. They all fire their metal objects, with lighting fast bolts of steel hurtling through homes and people.
Everyone runs everybody scatters