The fire, it burns, but it burns special.
The flames bounded across invisible boundaries, they tore down everything within half a thought of whatever foul being so desired to cast them. The voices that sprang and hissed out from the glowing orbs and devils tongues of red and orange were worse. The children lay backed up as far as they could against it, as the adults huddles in the center. Adults, elderly, all defended by the children. It would be a rather sad sight if seen in our world today. Yes a sad sight indeed.
But this was not seen as anything in particular as the the flames sputtered and taunted and yelled and nay some say challenged the people "Liars, traitors, cowards" the list grew on "yellow-bellied, scumm" None of them seemed fazed but for their eyes as the whites grew larger and large the fear of some retracting inwards to themselves.
The flames continued their quest for the ones inside, laying there; not sure whether the flames would break free from the invisible but in the hearts and minds bounds that tied it to the other world from whence it came."Gutless, soft-hearted." The flames began to whisper seductively. Almost the purr of an engine or cat.
The leaping winds bounded across the sky reflected in their admirers eyes. The eyes like glass reflecting the twisted flames. They warped and did tricks like that no acrobat has yet to perform. And they whispered. "deserter, deceiver" the voices though not growing louder in volume seemed to make themselves heard "backstabber." It was but a wisp of flame that crossed the invisible line.
The glassy eyes drew forth to the raw beauty presented them. The reflection drew closer. Until finally when not a scream was let out, the child:
It was a young boy, he was nine, he had brown hair, and green eyes before they turned to glass, in tattered cloths.
Walked into the fire.
The flames bounded across invisible boundaries, they tore down everything within half a thought of whatever foul being so desired to cast them. The voices that sprang and hissed out from the glowing orbs and devils tongues of red and orange were worse. The children lay backed up as far as they could against it, as the adults huddles in the center. Adults, elderly, all defended by the children. It would be a rather sad sight if seen in our world today. Yes a sad sight indeed.
But this was not seen as anything in particular as the the flames sputtered and taunted and yelled and nay some say challenged the people "Liars, traitors, cowards" the list grew on "yellow-bellied, scumm" None of them seemed fazed but for their eyes as the whites grew larger and large the fear of some retracting inwards to themselves.
The flames continued their quest for the ones inside, laying there; not sure whether the flames would break free from the invisible but in the hearts and minds bounds that tied it to the other world from whence it came."Gutless, soft-hearted." The flames began to whisper seductively. Almost the purr of an engine or cat.
The leaping winds bounded across the sky reflected in their admirers eyes. The eyes like glass reflecting the twisted flames. They warped and did tricks like that no acrobat has yet to perform. And they whispered. "deserter, deceiver" the voices though not growing louder in volume seemed to make themselves heard "backstabber." It was but a wisp of flame that crossed the invisible line.
The glassy eyes drew forth to the raw beauty presented them. The reflection drew closer. Until finally when not a scream was let out, the child:
It was a young boy, he was nine, he had brown hair, and green eyes before they turned to glass, in tattered cloths.
Walked into the fire.
Note| Sorry another short one!
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