Clouds break, showing sunlight, that now a canopy of light over what was left. Items of all kinds bent, crooked out of shape, lay on the paths carved by tree branches. Foot prints, barely visible running in all directions, and craters in the silt, left by the force of pounding raindrops. And burn marks on grass plains left by the vicinity of lightning.
Nearly all homes destroyed. Almost all supplies gone. All but one remained safe. An average man, push through sharp branches, coated in moist leaves. He saw the new world. The cries of the innocent. In pain, and hunger. Fear bleeds through the land, for ones still alive. They have nothing. "This arch. It is a wreck. A good disguise for keeping others from my home." He turned around, to enter the arch and sees a figure in the field. A small child alone. Cut, bruised, she weeps in pain. Unable to move in her agony. The average man felt guilt seep through him, and fill his heavy heart.
He brought out food. He brought out furniture. Be even took apart his own home. And mindlessly gave them away to others. He stood in the center of his arch. His arch, of not average strength, now worn and barely supported by the thin frame of his home. "I have nothing now. But is what have I done right? Is it worth helping others?" Sunlight shone from gap atop the arch. It shone, as dewdrops glittered around him. "Yes." And his arch collapsed over him. And now was the end of that man. But he was no longer an average man. He was a hero, of great majesty.
