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Rated: ASR · Fiction · Sci-fi · #1498728
Dream Sylvia had at the age of twelve, before staying a pandemic on a human world
The scents of sulfur and sugar mixed in the air. I breathed in both and looked around me. The air went down into my lungs and it was a hot bitter sweetness that made me quiver with pleasure. Where was I? It was so quiet, but it was too quiet. The ground was hot to my bare feet, but not uncomfortable.

I looked up to the sky, but saw only clouds of ash hanging low in the air. Fire streaked through it, its flames burning up the dark particles. That's when the screaming started, and it got louder. There wasn't only one scream, but several people screaming all at once. It wasn't a frightened scream, but a wretched scream that emanated from pain, sorrow, sickness, and sudden death.

I looked around me and humans were falling down at my feet. They were not able to withstand the fire, the physical fire and the decay that ate away at their graying skin. Their eyes looked right through me, but didn't acknowledge my presence. I turned around and saw the gorge of sharp rocks. People were trying to get to the cave that's inside was ablaze with an amber fire, with white tips to its flames. This was my home. This was Armava. Humans fell dead all around me, and I looked up again and there was a throne of glowing white flames. I fell to the ground, crippled with fear, and I trembled.

When I got up, I was in an abandoned town. The ground was cool beneath my feet, and the sky above was blue with the magnificent sun of the Omoliyan Galaxy shining down on my face, its warmth soaking into my skin and my eyes.

I looked about me. Caverns had been dug to take refuge below ground. Everything was silent again.

I felt a surge in my mind and shut my eyes. When I opened them, I was in the same desolate place, but mosquitos were swarming about me. The screaming started again. Humans were walking toward me, their skin gray with red and pink sores all about. Their garments were dirty rags. This was Terrian. This was my neighbor. I looked out further west in the sky and saw the bright ball of red and green, Armava.

Many people gathered around me and vomited up a putrid-smelling liquid. My small stomach was empty, so I gagged up a dry heave. They, then, looked up with sullen eyes. This time they didn't look through me. Their eyes met mine. One man with dark and silver hair walked up to me, his flesh was clean except for a few sores on his face and arms. He took my hand and led me toward the opening of the underground cavern.

The darkness was comforting and the air smelled sweet, so sweet I could taste sugar in my throat, as sweet and smooth as honey. I saw a make-shift wooden cross, a curious symbol, lit up in a white flame. Two infant girls covered in green canvass blankets lay on either side of it, shivering. The chattering of their teeth grated at my nerves.

I once again heard the buzz of mosquitos, and then a pinch at my arm.
© Copyright 2008 Beth Barnett (angellove at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1498728-Fire-of-Life-Sting-of-Death