Falling

It started out happy, their bodies lively and young.
Then it was cold. Their bodies became withered, mere husks of what they had once been. They fell, fell from their homes and into the street, piled up in the gutters. Then the big people came. They separated them from each other. Some were burned, some put into bags, but most were left to rot in the streets. Day by day, more of their people joined the dried corpses in the streets. They littered the sidewalks, the roads, the grass. It kept going, year after year, this cycle of death and rebirth. Until their homes were taken too. Cut to pieces, burned and ground down into powder, their once great civilization was falling around them. They watched helplessly as they were piled together with the rubble of their homes, burned and bagged. If only...if only next year would come sooner, so that they might be freed from this massacre. 
The man stood up, and wiped his brow. "I hate leaves," he said.
Category:Nature
Category:Micropasta