The sun sets on Corsonville. It’s the summer solstice ceremony. Strings of lanterns hang in the trees, bonfires are being lit. There’s a dance in the step of the people. The sound of drumming and windpipes have been filling their ears all day and everyone’s looking forward to the evening’s events.
The drumming becomes accompanied by the pounding of horses’ hoofs. Arrows fly, fires spread. The totems fall and the people flee to no avail.
The Barbarians slaughter, pillage and take few female prisoners.
Here they leave another village erased from the map,
As they always do.
Written for Masters of Flash Fiction Challenge