Day #7 – by Amber Averay (continued from Jeanelle’s Day #6)
I couldn’t deny, the thought of uncovering the mystery filled me with a sickening thrill – so much so that I nearly screamed in fear when a panicked voice screamed at me, ‘Get out of here! Get away!’ I spun around, somehow keeping my footing, and through the thickening flecks of falling grey ash spotted a soot-coated man stumbling away from the centre of the blaze.
His trousers and shirt were charred, soot streaked across his face, and blood dripped from lacerations crisscrossing his hands and arms. ‘Move!’ he hollered, the sound an oddly wet one. Feverish eyes burned into me, and he suddenly coughed up an ocean of purple-tinged blood.
I should have heeded his warning. I should have fled. Instead, I took a hesitant step toward him, my own aches and pains forgotten, and squeaked out, ‘Are you ok?’
He closed his eyes, defeat slumping his shoulders, and he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, scrubbing bloodied palms over his weathered cheeks. ‘I’m sorry. I tried. I’m sorry…’
Behind him, a rope of fire uncoiled from the heart of the blaze and snaked over the ground toward his feet.
‘No!’ I screamed, but the man only gave me a sad nod as the whip of flame swarmed over his ragged form.
I fell to my knees, gagging, tears spilling from my eyes, looking at the pile of coal-black ashes that but a second ago had been a living, breathing person.
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