Have you ever wondered why Jet chews that piece of straw, just to look cool right?
Golden Straw
His world was golden. The colour was spread across the sky like molten light leaking from the sun. The colour surrounded him, a sea of corn rippling gently in the warm breeze. The colour of his father's hand, tanned from working in the fields. The hand which now firmly gripped his as they walked through the furrowed pathway in the cornfield. His other hand he stretched out, running it through the swaying corn and finally breaking off a suitable piece of straw. Feeling the silky stem with his small fingers, the fresh scent and the dry taste of the straw as he rolled it on his tongue. The golden thatch of his house coming into view, the shape of a woman standing in the doorway, waiting. His world was of golden skies, golden straw, golden hands and golden moments.
Then golden became red, a world of red. The fire that raged destroying the cornfields, his house and his family. The colour of the clothes the hated man wore as laughed while watching the devouring flames. The colour of the nation who caused this destruction. The colour of the leaves in which he made his new home.
But always their was one single piece of gold, a piece of straw rolled on his tongue to remind him of the world destroyed by red.
And when finally his world was turning black,when colour began fading, he was sure he could see a golden light in the distance.