A Song of Life and Death: The boy lives

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The evening was rank with the emanating stench with pervading fume of death from beneath the fallen tree. It hadn't been a long time since people had gathered there together, even under the prevailing circumstances, demanding a meet with their mayor to discuss reforms and necessary changes. Different plans altogether, as the first rising in centuries and an initiative to participate in local governance was turned asunder in the heavy storm that blew that eve. The sky had grown cold with a misty look garnished with cherry red stroke of jet light amidst the sea blue-green horizon which tolled the arrival bell of an unnatural phenomenon or one that of a  devil. The crowd unknown, focused and oblivious, were busy chattering and discussing the agenda. A lonely boy sitting his mama's lap, too small to move, had been a constant witness of changes in the sky. His blue eyes had absorbed the growth of mist, showering  papery thin feathers of eagle that flew high and coin like metallic eyes of the pecker that perched nearby. He witnessed the vanishing smoke of mist, the maroon stroke of hellfire and the cloud opposing its presence in its vicinity in the sky.
After all he was a boy of three and his only defining feature was his blue eyes and adorable movements with coos now and then. 
The mayor's arrival broke his conscious stupor and along vanished the minute in-existing  possibility of the caution that the boy could deliver. His wooden throne crafted with elegance from exotically procured wood and foreign craftsmen was placed by people who had owed him servitude. The village folk brandished rebellion which lacked resolution but wasn't devoid of rationale thought with relevance to the problems of daily life of the people. It had been a constant endeavor under an efficient leadership to make progress without any crutch of violence but channel the frustration to fight a war of ideologies.
The meeting took its course with momentary lapses of high tempers cooled by the steadily rising wind that naturally marked arrival of an uninvited storm. It was a landmark day in the lives of the group.The boy resting, passed into the arms of cozy dreams flying among the stars and playing with the moon like a boomerang. He threw the moon whizzing past the sun that made its way around it, unharmed, unburnt coming towards his direction. Visualizing the mesmerizing boomerang heading towards him through the black sky he suddenly slipped and fell, still in his dreamland. Attempting to run or catch onto something were unfruitful as only stardust or something shiny and soft like that came in hand. With a sharp thump the boomerang smashed onto his head, presenting him a gash wound immediately leading to a few trickles of blood. His hand after a prolonged fight in the empty space, touched firm ground which brought back into consciousness. His feeble mind took note and experienced the taste of  blood. Panic-stricken, with a sudden new crushed feeling  which  hadn't been felt earlier, took him into its grasp when he did not find his mama's lap beneath him. Tiny specks of blood  washed his vest while bringing along particles of dust onto his lips. The blue eyes looked around innocently witnessing the blue-green horizon that now hid in the shroud of yellow flames feeding on lumbering tree. The papery feathers now settled in the back of eagle, busy in feeding off the dead with shining yellow flames in the eyes. The boy waving his hand and paddling his feet lied in the corner covered in mud among the dead alone, the lone survivor.

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