(This is an idea that has been with me since before Halloween. Sorry for it being out of season.)

(Also, it's a very rough draft. I'll need to rewrite it if it's to go anywhere.)

I am a wall. My siblings and I housed a family. We watched them age with laughter, usher in the next generation, and, in time, mourn the last.

Yesterday, we watched uniformed men rush in, pull them out, beat them, then line them against me. My pockmarks hurt very little. My heart aches for my family.

Last night, we brothers sought out the midnight wind and sliver moon's advice. They are the opposite of light. Once, they were who we guarded my family from. Now, we sought their counsel.

This morning, I drank of my family's blood from the soil. I drew it in, and forced it onto my side, visible to my brothers. The guided my marks, and we waited.

The general approaches. One of the soldiers came to loot, saw my words and notified him. He comes with his guards, looking for what rebels would write sedition in this house.

He is in us, him and and his men. We ...

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I am rubble.