The autumn sun shined above his head as he joyfully set up
his face towards it, and blinked because of that flood of
light. The air smelled good and nature, falling asleep,
tempted. Tree leaves were slowly changing color to red and
golden shades, birds flying to warmer places were crossing
the cold blue sky.
"I hope you don't look to the sun, boy," said Grandma,
behind his back.
He winced, turned his head and blinked, bedazzled, because
he, of course, did look to the sun, and for a while he saw
nothing but a big round dark spot.
"Of course I won't, Granny, I don't wanna go blind," he
answered, and in vain tried to focus his bedazzled eyes.
Finally he succeeded.
"If only..."
Granny stood behind him and held a rake.
"Do you want to come with me?", She asked.
He jumped up, smiled, walked to her and took the rake from
her hands.
"Sure. Where are we going?"
"Just over there, to the hill side under the forest", she
pointed to the nearby hill, covered with yellow grass and
crowned with a little wood.
He hopped with pleasure, put the rake on his shoulder and
followed Grandma, who was already a few steps in front of
him.
"What are we gonna do there, Granny?
"We got to burn that grass."
"But why?", He was surprised.
He wasn't sure what's wrong about the dry grass.
"If we burn it now, new grass will flourish in the spring,
young and green. It'll help the soil, you know".
"Oh."

The winds were calm and Granny was glad, there was no danger
the fire could spread out to unwanted areas. As the grass
was burning, she took the rake and controlled the fire here
and there.

He sat at the edge of the burning meadow, watching Grandma
working, when he noticed something moving among the flames.
He looked closely, and saw ants running desperately, trying
to escape from the deadly fire. They ran as if they lost
their minds. Burning straws were breaking under their little
legs and they kept falling into the flames and wriggling in
the heat. Their tiny bodies cracked and sizzled, but still
moved while burning.
"Granny, there are ants in there!", He shouted.
"Well, there's nothing we can do about it."
"But those ants are burning!!!", He screamed.

He opened his eyes and recalled his Grandmother, and he
recalled burning ants. How long has it been since she died?
Ten years.

He lay on the ground, his lips resting in dust. The soil
around him wasn't brown or black, it was slowly becoming red
and he confusedly remembered red tree leaves in autumn, back
home. But something was wrong. The Ground doesn't become
red, not even in autumn. He raised his head and looked for a
reason why the ground became more and more red. Then he saw
it. He learned the reason, but didn't find enough power in
himself even moan.

Everything around him was burning. He saw houses whose beams
glowed to the night, crumbled like burning stalks of grass.
He saw people mindlessly running around the burning
buildings. He saw human bodies sizzling in the fire,
bursting by heat and wriggling on the ground in unbearable
agony.
Fire. Fire and death. He knew the fire will be put out once.
He knew it'll extinguish when the old world burns down, old
and yellow, and then the spring will come. He knew
everything will flourish in that spring, fresh, green, pure.
He knew all the suffering around him, the fire, will be good
for the soil. It'll help. But..
"But I don't give a fuck," he whispered and would have cried
if he could.
"I don't give a FUCK," he roared, "Give... give me my arm
back!"

But his scream sank to the explosions of shots and howls of
fire without answer, and he put his head back into the arms
of bloodied earth and closed his eyes .And the burning ants
kept running through the burning grass.