When the fire finally died in the light of the early morning, a great wind blew in from the east, and there was a silence left in its wake. All the twittering of the surrounding birds was shut up, and there was not a voice to be heard.
I held my breath, staring at the dark soot still clinging to the cracked sidewalk. The wind had taken the ashes away. The white ashes had flown away in the breeze. Will I be free like the ashes on the wind? Or will I remain, dead, like the soot on the pavement?
Tale Told 