The gentle bounce of the aircraft and droning of its well-tuned engines had me in a tranquil lull. After a long hour's flight, our target was appearing over the horizon. I wished so dearly to just keep dreaming, to stay in my trance among the clouds.
Reality was approaching, and like the haunting raid sirens below, it soon melted all illusions of comfort.
After years of terrible war, our foe was already beaten, blooded, and disarmed. He knelt before us. Our planes, the sword held steady above his pitiful head. With payload armed, we would soon answer his cries for mercy.
In those final moments I tried so hard to justify my cruel mission. My conscience yearned to break away, to defect from the subsequent guilt. Like a wolf bound to his pack, I, whether it be by duty or fear was tethered to formation.
As fate drew nearer, my heart pounded, and soon began thrashing as if desiring to tear free and turn back.
On command the formation shifted. The sword arm raised high.
In that final instant a blinding flash of light saturated all perception. My plane's propellers stopped like the hands of frozen clock. My heart paused. A moment of calm...
Then, with a thunderous boom! My plane shook, windows shattered, and the stick flew from my hands. A streak of white blazed before me as the horizon began to spin. It struck us like a bolt of lightning. Seeming to appear from thin air it unleashed a chain of power that jumped from one plane to another, ripping apart the entire squadron with one fell swoop.
Be it by human construct or divine power, we were utterly decimated.
But then my conscience eased, my soul reprieved. Falling through the sky, my mind retreated back into that tranquil dream, my trance among the clouds.
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I got a good kick out of this quick cover mock-up, sent to me by my friend Mark Foster http://markfosterart.blogspot.com/
It seems rather fitting!
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