• How could it be so cold when the sunlight was so clear above? Its beautiful rays leaving gilded touches upon the earth, like the old tales of King Midas. How could such devastation be laid upon such a land mark with beauty and honor? Not that the Saxons cared, nor the Vikings, nor did the invading Picts who would destroy the lands which they adored, which they gave their souls to every day and night to protect and fertilize.

    The old thatched houses that sat by the road-ways were smoldering; their once lively and warm-welcoming windows now pitch black from the smoke that erupted from within. This was the mural painted out down this road, a complete place of devastation forever marked upon history. It was a place of sheer silence, such pain that it actually had a taste to its acrid body. A soft sob came from the corner, where you see know the form of a shaking child. Their red face covered with soot, their hands formed into claws around their face, trying to hide from the world around them... Such a laceration against the heart, a rape of the soul, and a curse upon the mind.