Somewhere on earth during a brief moment in the passage of time, there was a modest town inhabited by modest people.
There really was nothing special about that place. It was a town among towns.
Thus.
They lived their lives in peace and were expecting things to remain that way.
Forever and a day.
However, one fateful day, something unusual did happen.
Their peaceful existence came to a sudden end.
And.
That day would forever be remembered.
As.
The Day Of Flames.
Expectant townsfolk were gathered in the city square, for they had seen clouds paint the sky in shades of gray.
The drought had overdone its stay, and plants and people alike thirst for water.
They used what could be used to collect the sweet, sweet rain.
Barrels. Wagons. Bowls.
Then, at last.
Tired clouds release their burden, letting it all come drizzling down.
Happy shouting could be heard from the masses on the ground, but shortly it became screams of absolute and utter terror.
Because.
It was not rain — It was liquid fire.
Fsss says the sizzling fire as it caresses the town. Objects and people alike.
“AAAAAAAH,” says the townsfolk as they are burned alive.
It was in a matter of instants that a normal day became a day of flame.
It was in a matter of instants that expectant smiles turned to panic.
And.
All that now remains of the modest town with its modest people are lost dreams and ashes of what used to be.
Benjamin Bratz 