Camouflaged by the hill’s shimmering canopy, rainbow coloured birds paused their song. Below, bright eyed creatures crept warily, their stubby pink noses frantically searching the air.
The diggers were getting closer – too close, as a majestic swathe of the hill’s ancient, twisted forest creaked and crumbled onto the valley floor.
As the fallen trees were crushed underneath the advancing mechanical army, the barren ground was angrily ripped asunder by deep, jagged fissures. Within sun speckled clouds of dust and blood, both man and his machine disappeared.
A lone digger now sits rusting in the tall grass, as rainbow coloured birds once more sing their beautiful songs on the hill.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.