The wind blew silently as a bullet pierced the cool, peaceful, night air. Soon it was a war of bullets, one after another. The calm, cool, grass soon became a crimson stained pool. As the rain of bullets ended the battlefield was covered for miles with the mark of war. Hundreds of bodies lay silently as thick, black clouds began to roll over them covering the star filled, navy sky. Rain fell as thick as fog while lightning and thunder roared over their new territory. The fire's of the storm's fury engulfed the bodies which spread as fast as the next flash of lightning that struck feeding the hellish flames. The storms rage finally ended when the radiant beams of morning breached the clouds. The fires anger died down with a warm, and calming breeze as it swept over the blood stained field of war. The end of suffering was completed with a new radiant beginning of morning glories.
{This was probably one of my best short-stories I've ever written, but it could probably improve. I did write this back in 9th grade.}
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