He’d moved out of sight, but he couldn’t escape the sound, the distant thunder of stone falling on stone, of walls toppling to the ground. It was all day — all night. Didn’t these conquerors sleep?
He waited, and watched. Watched for survivors, travelers returning to the City unaware that the world had changed in their absence.
He watched for survivors, but that wasn’t what he saw. With each carrying rumble, he saw the City. He saw the bright mosaics he’d played next to as a child. Gone. He saw the fountain where he’d told Asiri he loved her. Gone. He saw the sunlit columns of the temple. Gone. His eyes watered, and he told himself it was the sharp summer wind.
He’d thought the thunder was the worst of it, but in the end, he was wrong. What was worse was when the thunder stopped, and there was only silence and the wind on the plains.
This week’s prompt from Trifecta Writing Challenge. This week’s challenge was to write between 33 and 333 words using the third definition of the word thun·der (noun \ˈthən-dər\)
1: the sound that follows a flash of lightning and is caused by sudden expansion of the air in the path of the electrical discharge
2: a loud utterance or threat
3: bang, rumble
It’s good fun, this prompt business!