View Full Version : Beaulieu Sur-Mer

May 8th, 2013, 05:59 PM
All was peaceful and all was fair, the town shuttered in the silence usually accompanied by the hardy sounds of laughter and merriment. But, this was a moment of repose for the people of Beaulieu Sur-Mer. Not only two days ago, King Henry VIII ordered the killing of some of the churches ministers and catholic leaders. Beaulieu Sur-Mer (being a catholic town) was assigned to the king’s best regiment as a point of interest to knock the church to its knees. When the soldiers arrived that morning, the screams and clash of the king’s metal rang in the air.
“My son!” a women yelled, as her first born was dragged away and beheaded right before her eyes, the father runs out and embraces his son’s decapitated head.
The soldiers like a clock-work machine, start maiming and murdering the people of Boullmount Seumeir with such force, that even the devil would shutter in his icy prison from this spectacle.
“Forward!” The captain yells in to the icy air, while the English soldiers march along the cobble-stone road.
The houses burn, the fields are stomped on, the wives and children of the town are raped by the unforgiving anger of the English troops. A man looked as his wife was raped before his very eyes; he stares at the scene chained to the fence yelling her name.
“Anastasia! Anastasia!” the man yells, but all is lost as his voice falls on deaf ears. The man is forced to watch, after his wife was raped, to see her limbs torn from her body and caste aside, ending up in a heap in the cold, white snow.
In an attempt to fight back, the villagers run to the front of the line to fight off the monstrous English troops that they had to watch rape and kill their kin. With Anger and ferocious lust for the Englishmen’s blood, they swing and they bash the shields of the English. But, nothing could match the tempered steel shields that the English possessed, with a short stab the Englishmen laid waste to the many martyrs that combated the English.
“Torches!” the captain of the English troops yelled.
The Englishmen throw the fiery torches in to the houses and shacks that lined the streets of Beaulieu Sur-Mer. Screams of burning villagers were heard from inside the houses; as block by block the town was razed. Most of the Mother’s children, who couldn’t climb out of the burning wood of the houses in time, fell into the burning rubble. Cattle and herds ran in cries of desperation, escaping from the bloody death that they saw before their eyes. Even the birds fled in distress from the blazing heat that the houses gave off. The houses one by one fell to the ground as the soldier’s feet marched on in the dirty, red and wet cobblestone, that used to be so lively of happy moments of love and togetherness. The ground was now a shadow of its former self became a scene of pain and agony, from the blood to the bodies.
The captain looked around as a mission accomplished, as the peace treaty was just a diversion to put the villagers guard down, he scoffs at the trickery he conceived and turns to his guard and smiles.
“Send a letter to the king that we have made vacant the town of Boullmount Seumeir.” He laughs at the wind and pulls out of his side pouch of his coat, crossing off the name Beaulieu Sur-Mer and circling the next town within his evil gaze. He was content with the mission and then he stepped off of his horse to write another peace treaty.

May 12th, 2013, 09:13 AM
Interesting short story. Has it been published?

May 13th, 2013, 04:37 PM
No, not yet; just a little something I wrote.