Marbled streams of fire shifted and wound through hissing clouds of acrid smoke. Fissures broke open like wounds, finding each other and melting into flickering rivers before swollen dams of black rock rolled across and cut them from the night sky.
A maelstrom swirled high above, peppering the shifting rock with ashen pumice as forks of lightning shruck at the ground.
The old man looked on, fingers tightening in his palms. Tears fell at the beauty of it. His heart broke as children screamed.
One last toll of the church bell broke the air.
Fire leapt. The screams stopped.
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Image by Yosh Ginsu via Unsplash.
Pompeii sprang to mind when I read “Intense”. There was a man who witnessed it and survived – Plinny the Younger. It’s hard to imagine how terrible it was for him to see.
Today’s story title was donated by fellow blogger and author Angelica Kidd, who is just beginning her submission for NanoWrimo as of yesterday! Follow her progress at https://angelicakidd.wordpress.com/.
See you tomorrow for “Enslavement”.
Francis placed the quill carefully into the ink, sighing as he watched the dying fire crack and spit. He barely saw the dim glow of the flames. He looked through them at the days ahead: at what needed to be done.
There was a cry from the street outside and Francis flinched, his heart thundering as he stood and peered through the glass.
“What are you doing?”
Francis knew the voice behind him. It purred in refined malice. Rage dissolved to terror as he heard the soldiers file in. The book was still open.
“I’m telling the truth, your worship.”
(c) Tim Austin 2016. Promo image courtesy of Martin Kníže via Uplash.
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See you tomorrow for “Crepuscular”!