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Rated: · Chapter · Other · #1611469
This Is Just The Prologue To An Idea For A Story, Tell Me What You Think Of It...
Flames Crawled Up The Once Solid Walls And He Stood Eyes Wide, Mouth Open In An Eternal Scream. His Pupils Were Small Dots In The Centre Of Bloodshot Eyeballs, Paralysed With Panic And Fear, Staring Straight Ahead. The Calls Were Mindless Echos That Barely Got His Attention, The Cries Of Dismay Were Clouded By Thoughts Of Recent Pain And Torment. Large Amounts Of Plaster And Tile Crashed From The Roof Of His Bedroom But He Still Would Not Budge. He Glared Out Of His Window As The Fire Engulfed All The Surrounding Buildings, Causing The Shrieks Of Agony To Triple But Not Once Did He Blink. Like A Statue He Stood, Watching As His Street Was Burned And His Neighbors Collapse On The Roads With Burnt Skin And Blackened Flesh.
         Familier Cries Reached His Ears And At Last He Shifted Though He Soon Wished He Had Not. He Raced Down The Cracked And Broken Staircase, Dodging Loose Wisps And Scolding Ashes. It Was Worse Downstairs, The Kitchen Was Unreconisable, The Units Were Covered It Soot Whilst Pans, Machines And Tables Had Become Red With Heat. His Hand Stung Emmensly As He Tugged Desperatly At The Doorknob. The Mahogany Door Swung Open And Broke Off It's Hinge As Vast Amounts Of Smoke Filled His Lungs. The Living Room Windows Were Shattered And Covered With A Thick Layer Of Blood. There Were Scratches On The Oak Front Door And A Scent Of Diesel Was In The Air. He Pulled Hard At The Door But It Would Not Move.
         Running Towards The Window, He Hears A Low Groaning Noise. He Leans Out, Careful Not To Get Cut On The Glass. Upon The Floor Beneath Him, He Sees Two Figures Huddled Into Foetal Positions. Their Clothes And Skin Are Burnt And Torn, Bright Blood Is Flowing From Their Wounds And Soaking Into The Fabric. A Tear Obstructs His Vision As He Slowly Begins To Recognise Them. Long Plum Hair That Hung Over Her Delicate Shoulders, Constantly Being Cleared From Across Her Deep Brown Eyes. And White Hair Cut Short Above His Green Glazed Eyes. Their Clothes Had Been Shredded And Fried But It Was Definatly Them. His Mother Rose Slightly From The Ground And Stared At Her Terrified Son, Tears Rolling Down His Cheeks.
         "Seth, You Have To Go Find Luna!" His Mother's Voice Was Quiet And Raspy, But He Heard It. He Raced Back Up The Staircase Calling His Sister's Name. Checking Her Room, He Heard A Quiet Sobbing Of Horror And Pain. He Tried The Door But Found It Blocked. He Repetedly Shoved At The Thin Door Until At Last It Swung Open. His Shoulder Was Badly Bruised And His Upper Arm Was Slightly Fractured. Looking Through The Flames, He Found Luna Huddled In The Corner, Her Hands Wrapped Tightly Around Her Bleeding Leg. Seth And Luna Were Twins With One Difference, Their Hair Was White Like Their Father's And Seth's Eyes Were Deep Chocolate Like His Mother's But Luna's, They Were A Pale And Misty Blue That Seemed To Sparkle When She Was Overwhelmed With Emotion. They Were Dull And Hardly Visible As She Rocked In Her Space In The Corner. Rushing Over To Her, A Cracking Noise Was Heard Above The Fire. As The Floor Caved In, Two Screams Of Shock Joined To Make One.
         Seth Sat Up Straight In A Wrap Of Black Covers. He Stared At The Wall As Cold Sweat Flooded His Face, Later Joined By Warm Tears. He Had Remembered. He Saw It, In His Dreams. He Saw How His Family Died. Death. Complicated Yet Simple. A Thing Of The Past And Of The Future. A Natural Part Of The Human Life. No One Lives Forever. Death. Something Seth Was Used To. He Had Known It For Years, Seen It Many A Time. Like A Friend. But Hated Like An Enemy. Death. A Definition Of Death Is When Your Body Gives Up. You Can Die Peacfully. You Can Be Suprised By Death. You Can Hate Death, Or Love Death. Welcome It Or Even Trick It. But It Will Always Get You. You Can Be Taken Before Your Time Or After It. You Can Feel Fear Or Pain Or Torment! Or You Can Feel Peace...
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