Fragile

Augrum watched the fields of wheat, a placid yellow ocean broken only by the crooked fence in the wind. Augrum was cleaning up the neglected attic, which could barely hold his weight, instead of playing with his family. Glancing up, he saw his family picture lying in the corner of the attic, so distant and cold. Tears swallowed his vision, but he stopped as a knock erupted at the door. Looking outside, he saw that no one was there.

Augrum dropped to his knees. He felt weak, faint and, worst of all, lost. Everything seemed more intimidating and his surroundings seemed bigger. His vision was unable to focus and shifted every second. Augrum gathered enough energy to stand, his legs shaking as he stumbled with every forced step. Augrum felt as though lead had been implanted in his body. Slowly, his body was falling as though paralysed. Reaching for the railing for balance, he fell, his leg buckling and his eyes shutting as he lost all sense of his surroundings.

He woke up cold, with a pool of sweat beneath his clothes, and the floorboards felt even more frayed. He walked towards the window. It was dark, but a clear path of shredded wheat was still visible, trailing towards his house. Whatever was heading towards Augrum, it made him fragile. He cursed himself for not being strong enough to hold on.

The last things he remembered were hearing glass shatter and seeing a swift figure.