Fiery Fury

The fires are dyingly low. Few watch in the darkness, the embers glowing their last lives. They watch the horizon, the skies, they can't see anything in the darkness. But it's out there, watching... waiting. There is nothing they can do. They are helpless in the darkness. It's out there, formulating in its own way. It's out there, peering at them with dead eyes. The few around the fires pray to their gods and godesses, some finding answers, others resigning to their fate. A call fills the air, the women and children scream, the men steel their hearts and minds, their hands falling to their swords. Another call and their hearts quicken. Minds run rampant with the last thoughts of the dead. There is no turning back. Luck, War, Fortune; a few of the gods that still remain with them in their hearts. Another call and swords are drawn. A few grunts roam through the silent crowd. Nothing could ever prepare them. Yet they remain, the last hold of humanity making its last stand. A few warriors have fled; in the wilds or the encampment, they cannot escape what their fates have decreed. Another call, an eerie glow in the distance. It comes for them. Another call, the frontline guards scream, some running back into the lines, their bodies afire, skin melting, the smell of human flesh, and the smell of the dead wafting in all distorted reality further. Another glow, orangish-red, the distant mountains aflame with devastating fury. They seem to melt before the warriors eyes. Some run away, others drop their swords. Few stay, those that do are statues of flesh against the raging flame. Another glow, the heat of the flame above their heads. Some go flat to the ground, others prostrate themselves to the unseen and unknown. Others look above, finding rivers of fire gorging through the sky. These that stand laugh, they've lost their minds. They still laugh when the flame becomes vertical. They laugh and laugh until what remains of their bodies disintegrate. The last shards of humanity are out there, and only it knows when the end will come.

Tim Munn
Copyright 6.3.2008