Billowing grey rises off of a bright blazing orange, clouds that lay waste to the once purple skies. Sparks flew with crackling clamor as flames devoured wood and the dead. No one said a single word as they all stood and watched. No one dared look away nor blink at the ravenous light. Except for one. A young child balled up far away from everyone else, looking away with a book clutched to his chest. It was a fairy tale- of when humans were called the rulers of the world. Before our fossil fuels were all burnt out. When there was a place called a forest, a place of life. When houses stretched through large suburb expanses. This child looked out from the parapets of the walls out into the plains of red dirt and sun bleached ruins, imagining of what may have been there long before his time. As the souls from the fire began their march from this Earth to heaven, the fire of the lost burnt itself out. And as the fire gradually turned to ash and embers, all that was left was total silence.

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