The heat was blistering. Sweat poured down my face, and smoke filled my lungs. My gaze flickered over to my wife sitting on the couch with a look of apathy on her. Flames soared about, burning our home and melting our possessions. I continued to look at her, only to see her nod, as if she was accepting what to come. I wanted to walk up to my love, but I was paralyzed. I had such an urge to embrace her, to tell her everything would be okay, but nothing was said; no words were needed.
We had been watching television, smiling in carefree bliss when laughter was heard from outside our house. A bottle with a burning tip had burst from our window and fallen to the floor, shattering, as a blaze erupted from it— Molotov cocktails, the beloved tool of a pyromaniac. We should have known, though, there had been so many reports of them. We shouldn't have been so surprised as Death knocked on our doors. That being said, however, we were at first, alarmed. We attempted to run and scream. We tried to escape, but the flames, the emotionless heat, chased us; it cornered us. The fire itself seemed to be alive. Like the Devil, it burned with insanity.
My wife stared hard into my eyes. She coughed in suffocation, but finally, she relented, and her lips moved. Through my fogged-up glasses, it was difficult to see. It was hard to hear, as well. I strained to listen, stepping closer to hear her final words. Once more, I had the urge to hold her. The flames, however, seemingly angry, envious even, at our affection and love, rose and climbed onto the couch, engulfing her…engulfing our passion. She smiled sweetly one last time, a smile which was almost as radiant as these flames, and was consumed.
I stepped back from it, sobbing in anguish, tears falling down my cheeks, and through the chaos, I heard the sirens of a fire-truck. A bit late, I thought, laughing bitterly, inhaling the putrid air. My laughter continued until, abruptly, pain shot from my legs. I peered down through watering eyes and observed the flames. They burned brightly, happily eating everything in its path of destruction. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out; my cry was silent. Falling backwards, I stared at the bright beast running about, watching it as it burned. And then, I gave one final chuckle, as the Devil's fury swallowed me in unspoken animosity.
- by The Llama Goes Moo |
- | Submitted on 10/25/2009 |
- Title: The Devil's Flames
- Artist: The Llama Goes Moo
- Description: I'm not religious whatsoever, but this was a dream I had, so I decided to write about it. It freaked the s**t outta me. D:
- Date: 10/25/2009
- Tags: devils flames fire passion
- Report Post
Comments (2 Comments)
- 777-iPen-iSheep-777 - 11/13/2009
- omgsh alice ur such a good writer!!! i suck at it rofl
- Report As Spam
- iConverse4Life - 10/25/2009
- Thats just disturbing. Isn't it weird what we come up with in our sleep? 5/5
- Report As Spam