In amongst the strands of golden straw and sticky sweet scent of decay, lay the crushed carapace of a stag beetle. Rare and beautiful even in death, it shone in the delicate rays of sunlight pouring in through the busted roof of the barn. High in the rafters, as if the beetle’s soul had already moved on, the gleam white cream of a barn owl’s wing fluttered and two lamp like eyes shone amber in the gloom. Between the two creatures an eternity of dusty distance expanded; worlds apart – light and dark, life and death. The barn owl lifted its soft and silent shape into the dying evening light and headed out into the verdant, life-laden paradise beyond the rotting doors. On the floor, the shimmering carapace bore the marks of the boot that had crushed it.
You need to be a member of The 6S Social Network to add comments!
Join The 6S Social Network