battlement - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
This castle that arises from the battered Earth is as the mind of the bad kings, of those hide their hearts behind walls of stone as they plunder and kill. Up here, with the wind in our hair and only the sweet birdsong above, one could be forgiven for seeing their vain-glory as benign. Yet I have seen the slaying and the suffering that multiplies. A good king could live in a humble cottage and still be revered, never needing armies or weaponry, only their giving heart.
The battlements are freckled with the lichen, the grassy fields beyond peeking through the gaps. Each wave of the grass in the gusting wind is as the calling of a cheeky child to come play... to forget the foolishness of gold and castles and the orders of these selfish monarchs.
The battlement stones were as washed out as the sky, one grey leaching into the other and each just as frigid without the sun. The granite was slick under the constant haze, and robbed the heat of any man that dare lay himself next to it. Nevertheless they did, backs flat to the unforgiving rock that protected their bodies from opportunistic arrows. As with many defending armies they were fathers, men with the strongest of reasons to live out the battle.
From behind the battlements there was a sense of do or die; moments, like opportunities, come just once. The future lay before them both light and dark - to win meant prosperity and love, to loose meant decay and festering under the thumb of an uncouth enemy. Before the terrible song of war began each man lay their head to the rock and let a prayer escape from their souls.
A decade ago we all lived in heated homes with wifi and tablet computers. Since the zombie hoard invaded we can't live anywhere but the old castle. It's not a ruin, but it's not complete either. Parts of it crumbled away decades ago. But there are still rooms, we had to put new floors in though. The battlements on the towers are lichen covered grey stone. I recall learning about that in science class, the lichen is a pioneer species, it doesn't need soil. Between the battlement turrets we lean out and watch the undead coming over the bluffs; a hoard of shadows with a lumbering gate, moaning into the twilight. In the old days they protected the inhabitants from arrows, now the enemy is too stupid to make projectiles, we just live in feat that they learn to climb.