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Autumn Brume, No Winter (Drabble)

Based on a reference of Autumn theme picture, finished on 2nd November 2023. Not beta read.

Orange maple leaves pitter patter on a slick concrete path, wetted by the sky's cloudy tears last night, by a gentle breeze of morning, those leaves carried a watery weight, dark as rouge joined in falling from the branches. Ground gained a sprinkle of chilli flakes near trees' stable roots; some distant leaves made a greeting and bowed to a kitsune interlinking his arm with his angel, staying to bear his divine steps.

Weight of the universe, they crumbled under his feet; the kitsune twists his cosmos by capricious branches of his fingers. Their fate, straying from their long standing nurturer of the less beautiful protector, without any intelligence, they stayed on the path in pieces even the deities left long, long ago.

Mist dusted on mountains of blooming red and orange maple leaves stayed to give their tree a flowery hat for an upcoming rain. Scattered over a lone rocky formation, white clouds howled "toro toro" moving a translucent cloth of fog upwards. Clearing up a sight of a lonely white holiday home, on a balcony contains the kitsune sitting leaning his head on his angel's shoulder. His sight, his brain formed images of the witnessed atmosphere, maple leaves showing their naked radiance for leniency for survival against weaponry and anything shining sliver.

"Such a shame...I don't possess their fear in my hands." He, now Death, smiled wily.

The angel blew a veil of fog away from his chilled face, "Mercy shall be granted, my Lord, towards what is around us."

Behind them, tears of maple leaves left behind the fog dispense over deities, a loose pile to bury them by a command of their sky's winded howl.

One by one, all leaves touched the wooden balcony; the embrace of mystical beings not from their planet, kitsune and angel - they soon disappeared.

Soon, the maple leaves' last sight through holes of light fog barrier is a downward spiral of purple sphere of doom. The kitsune and angel held hands together on their next diligent journey.

No pain against their trunk, no more fear of execution. The trees held their last breath. Orange and red trees became purple, to white, to black, they were no more.

The scenery, no more autumn. Only the void marks their memory.