Perils of a Leaf

Possibly the prologue for a little hisorical fiction story, if I have the motivation to keep it going, but it can stand on its own.

~*~

A weak breeze was the only thing that moved in the serenity of the cold fall afternoon. Slowly, tentatively, it took flight, reaching out with gentle fingers. An oak leaf, haphazardly thrown to the ground, gradually fell prey to the gentle prodding, lifting itself slowly and waving once, twice, three times in response.

Emboldened, the shapeless wanderer tugged and prodded more, and the leaf reluctantly took flight, describing a swirling pattern above the untouched roadway. Overhead, the trees rustled indignantly, and the wind blew back in teasing response. This extra exertion was a bit too much, and the breeze tumbled in upon itself, dropping the leaf back unto the packed earth for new hands to excite.

But now, suddenly, the subtle stillness was shattered by an altogether new noise. Like a fierce gale, a loud, screaming wail erupted overhead, growing louder, the fainter, then louder again, and always punctuated by shots and explosions. The trees shook furiously, indignant at this latest disturbance. Moved by an unexplainable force of terror, the abandoned leaf turned itself over as if to hide its face from the danger.

And then, in an avalanche of noise and fire and metal, an object crashed through the tops of the trees, tearing down branches and leaves as it went. The shape grew larger and larger, bearing down, until with an earsplitting crash it collided forcefully with the ground. Dirt flew in all directions, and the tree trunks shook madly. For an instant, chaos reigned – and then all, again, was still. Flames sputtered and died. Somewhere nearby, the little leaf fell, once again, to the ground.