Aftermath

I remember it so clearly.

It was a crisp Saturday morning, thawed by the sun's rays and coated in a thin layer of dew. With tired eyes, I stared blankly at the ceiling.
Once the embrace of my blanket had worn away, I freed myself from its comfort and stood on trembling legs. The cold bit my skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.
It was a long and painful process of pulling on the frigid, crumpled clothes that lived on the floor in the corner of my room, but even with my baggy sweat pants and over sized hoodie, the cold still breathed down my neck.
Opening the door that linked my kingdom to the galaxy beyond, was like opening a freezer, the walls lined with icicles that rumbled at the slightest sound.

It was a perilous journey from my room to the lounge, but once I opened the final gate, I sighed in relief. I saw my family watching TV, their homely smiles welcoming and their laughter sweet.
The smell of toast lingered in the air.

It came out of nowhere.

We had no warning.

All I remember is the look of happiness, and love on my family's face, before it all went black. The smell of ash, fuel and death filled the air, choking out the blue sky in billowing black clouds. The colour was gone, nothing except the glow of the fire that engulfed the foundation of the house that once stood.
My body convulsed as I spat out smoke, its acidic taste melting my tongue, stinging my lungs. The ground shook as helicopters and fighter jets arched across the sky, sending a shiver hope down my spine. The shiver dissipated when I realized they were leaving, shooting through the tower of smoke and disappearing from view.
I was left alone, with nothing but a handful of scorched memories.

The memories burnt. Smoldering like the embers that charred the place I once called home. The world was silent, but my head was loud. Questions and feelings yelling, calling, begging to be heard. But I ignored them, lying on the ash of my past I let the memories of the attack flood in, washing away any hope, comfort and happiness I had left. Lifting myself I knelt on ashen knees, tears streaking down my face. I wanted to cry, to explode like the cork on a wine bottle, but the words stuck in my throat, and clogged my chest.

All around me survivors emerged, crying out like small children, their charcoal skin glistening with sweat and tears. Someone touched my shoulder, but my body was numb, and my mind was now blank. From somewhere in the crowd came the sound of mewing, and a flicker of light revived my soul. "Milo? Milo, come here boy" I sobbed. His fur was singed, and he smelt of ash, but his purrs rippled through my body, loud and loving.

How had he lived? I will never know.

But together, we knelt in the ash and I looked to the heavens and whispered, "God save us".