Tumbleweed

Tumbleweed tumbled all through me. Tiny feet stamping in unison. All crying out, “Crucify him!” We walked back up the stairs we had come from. The questions unraveled themselves as we backed away. Looking askance at us from under the eaves, the villagers waited. None would mourn our passing. Helmets on, we ran headlong into the cannons. The big metal balls caught and cradled in our skulls like eggs in the hands of a farmer. She shot me a glance and fled the battlefield.
Stop, speak to me! She whispered. Lightly, someone tapped me on the shoulder. A moth brushed my face.