The system

The wind blew gently. Birds sang. The smell of the air itself was putrid. The kind of smell you smell and then can taste in your mouth for the next few minutes. The sundial which sat in the field next to the boy who was now a man had indicated the working day had just begun. 

Noises could be heard. The kind of humans. Breathing, walking, even the tapping of a nervous foot. In these sounds he found comfort. They indicated something, something sacred, something beautiful. It was life. But ahead of him there was no life. The crops were gone. The tree which was so beautifully decorated had been stripped of it's beautiful coat. The ornaments which hung on it were replaced by something more sinister. The lifeless bodies of women and children. The scene was so very dark that the sun seemed to hide itself among the clouds to escape. 

That was when he had realized something. A something that was nothing, but the type of nothing that was something