Fallen

          The leaves whirled around him, the sounds of the wind pushing them left David feeling hollow again. All he ever felt was empty, unfulfilled. He closed his eyes and clenched his fist. There was no purpose in standing here. There was no purpose in the leaves being blown. There was no purpose for him to exist.

           David took a deep breath, holding in another silent scream. He opened his eyes and stepped forward. The fallen leaves crunched under his shoes. Every crunch reminded him of a cry. The cries of his people, the cries of a fallen nation. He stomped his foot, more crunches. Another leaf scream.

           He sighed, and took another step careful to not step on the orange leaves. As he stepped, he noticed the orange leaves were blending into yellow. Yellow leaves. Different from the orange. He stooped to his knees and stared at the intruder leaves, circling the orange leaves. He reaches for a yellow leaf, holding it gently in his palm. His face slowly contorted to anger and he closed his fist, crushing the yellow leaf. Loud crunching, loud crying.

           He glared at his closed fist, and squuezes harder. Small crunches, little screams. He opens his palm and lets the shredded yellow flecks rain down to the grassy floor. The yellow blended into the orange. He let out a growl and reached into his pants pocket. His fingers grazed the smooth lighter as he removed it from the pocket.

          Flick. The fire sparked. Flick. The fire sparked again. He shakes the tiny container hearing the fluid. Flick. A tiny blaze erupts from the hole. He stares into the hot tiny flame, it wavered as it moved. So beautiful yet such a deadly weapon. Fire. He blinked and returned to his task, lifting up another yellow leaf.

          Fwoosh. One touch of the flame and it was shriveling into nothing. Gone. He stared at the large pile of yellow and brown leaves compared to the small bit of orange by the trees roots. He stepped forward, more screams, as he lifted up a orange leaf. He used his index finger to lightly stroke the orange leaf. He stared once more at the yellow and brown mix before bringing the flame close to the orange. It let out a cry, as the flame neared. David pressed the flame to the leaf and held it, causing the leaf to light ablaze.

          He returns the lighter to his pocket and holds the burning leaf. Flick. He flicks the burning leaf into the fray of red, brown and yellow. The orange blaze starting to devour the leaves, spreading. Screams of agony rose with each crunch. David sat back on his knees letting the light wind push against his back. Whoosh. The fire had risen, spreading to the trees, the grass was singed.

        Loud screams as the bark crackled under the flames touch. He closed his eyes, hearing the flame crackle, the leaves crunching screams. The wind swaying him slightly as the choir of agony droned on.

        It was a long while before there was silence. He opened his eyes, there were no remaining leaves. No strong tree. The grass was blackened and brittle, the burning executioner had done its cruel work. He held no smile, no frown. The face of neutrality was all he wore as he got off his knees. He felt nothing, his heart as hollow and barren as the land before him. He stepped to the tree, stepping along the ground of burned corpses. He ran his hand along the crispy bark and put his temple to the tree, taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes and gave a silent apology, standing vigal against the tree.

          He opened his eyes once more and slowly stepped away, turning his back to the ashen graveyard as he vanished into the distance.