The Friday Pagers

Chiaroscuro

But, alas, there was no one left to save him. The house crumbled as it fell, spilling out white-hot coals like so many suns. A trail of sparks drifted into the sky, evidence of a magic no more uncommon than the wonder of lighter fluid. Less magical was his fate. Locked in the attic, he had climbed through the skylight onto the roof, and there watched the fire consume the night. He watched his life crumble into ashes, for by now the fire was too widespread to escape. He remembered what it felt to feel the sun... He vaguely looked up into the sky, and between the dashing sparks and ash he could discern a few stars. He recalled nights spent by the fire, laughing with friends and counting the constellations. How cruel life seemed, betrayed by those very same friends and left to count the stars to the remainder of his fate.  The fire grew ever higher.   And yet, he felt no regret... he never could have known his friends were demons in disguise...could never have seen the darkness growing within them. He even forgave them, really... What else could he do, left on a rapidly tilting plane? There was no room for hysterics. Just then there was a great crashing, thundering noise as the last supports broke.    The house fell.