I gazed down on the once amber colored fields, reminiscing on what they used to be. Once upon a time, you could hear the whispering of the wheat as it swayed with the morning breeze. Once upon a time, children would run through the fields, not a single care in the world. Once upon a time, these fields were beautiful.

But looking out on the fields right now, the thought of them being beautiful seemed impossible. What was once my safe haven was now a war-ridden wasteland. The used-to-be golden crops were now ash and dust. The soil was rich 
red color due to the blood seeping into it. There were so many decimated corpses littering the ground, you couldn't take two steps without tripping over a limb.

Ashes were raining down gently, almost seeming kind, like a gentle sprinkle of rain in spring. But I knew that that delusion wasn't true. I could see the haze of a fire in the distance, and all of it almost seemed......Elegant, or even alluring. It all felt like some sick joke, where I was the victim. Not a funny joke, but a joke none the less.