Feb 01 2009
Straw Man 20
It was a type of silence that Connor had never experienced before. There were no birds or tiny rabbits chatting about him. Nothing living was present and Connor was sad at the thought that, even though he had been spared of incineration by the blaze, his presence did not change that fact. A gaping void of empty ashen fields that surrounded him out to the far off tree lines that seemed as still as the boards he was fixed to. The ever present breeze, that wafted passed to mountains to his right and the forest to his left, had lost its rustling quality. The rolling throngs of corn stocks that had leaned and danced to the lead of the wind were naught but ash swirling silently in gentle little tornados.
