I walk up to the beast itself
The one who devoured my entire family.
My home. my life.
Painful and scorching to look at,
Yet beautiful as a tiger lily
I reach my hand out, showing I mean no harm
But all it gives me is scalding and febrile pain as I grasp its hand.
I run as far away as I can, like a hare running from the predator.
But I am surrounded by a horrible gate that I cannot escape
The only way to escape is to go through.
But I am being trapped as if I were a child in WW2.
I gasp for air when all I can smell is the air, tinged with charcoal
I look around the burning room
And see the ruin of a fallen city, engulfed in black smoke and flames,
The stones of the city, tumbling, stumbling.
The fire sounds off its own hurricane of disaster.
All I can see is color of volcanic matter and wind broke out in fury.
My hands, are not hands anymore.
They are just black, rotting sticks being consumed by this beast.
My long, black hair is now colored as white as paper.
I see my short period of life flash before my eyes. no escape.
Then I see light.
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