Flash Fiction

          Trumpets filled the air. Silence fell across the swarms of flesh as all eyes were directed towards the Founder. A boy cried for his mother, whom he lost in the fray. The Founder flinched at the outcry. Before the Founder even needed to nod his head, the boy was silenced. No one winced at such an abnormal interruption. Natural selection they said it was. The Founder redirected his attention back to the flocks of his pale-skinned subjects. He rose his hand. Every knee was bent towards him. His hand lay suspended in the air for a small eternity. His thumb began to point towards his chest. The silence grew. Soon, the wind stopped as well. As the point of his thumb brushed his sternum, the crowds began to slowly rise. The Founder left his podium, and so silence was lifted.