Short Story: You Can't Save What You Don't Have

I felt my stem stem start to weaken from each gust of wind.
No matter how hard I tried to hold on I could still feel it slipping.
I should be thankful that I had formed so high off the ground, no pesky fingers to rip me from my home.
But my time has come to an end.

A few days had gone by since I felt the damage, and I knew soon I would finally let go.
The bugs strayed from my surface, refusing even the slightest of nibbles.
If it wasn’t for the ticking clock, it would have been blissful.

Then the time finally came.
The wind rustled through my home and I along others, let go.
The descent was both releasingly calm and terrifyingly hopeless.
I fluttered to the ground before I nestled my place between the rest of the fallen.

We had no tears to cry, no lungs to laugh.
But I’m sure we all felt the same.

My brothers and sisters lay along the pavement and grass, stepped on and trampled by those who pass.
I wished I could save them as I watched them break brittly apart.
But I couldn’t save myself, because we all lacked a heart.