one night, lightening struck the oak tree. Eddie was it next morning. It lay broken in half, and he looked into it’s trunk as into the mouth of a black tunnel. The trunk was only an empty shell, it’s heart had rotted away long ago; there was nothing inside- just a thin gray dust that was being dispersed by the whim of the faintest wind. The living power had gone, and the shape it left had not been able to stand without it.
