Twisted Inferno
Lonesome and cold, the fragile framework of the ancient man creaks and groans, as he struggles to produce a flame from the matchbox.
What would have once been an easy task is now an amazing feat of strength,
For the taut skin of his youth is now draped over his body like a curtain.
A flash of light, along with a sigh of relief , assures him that he will be neither cold nor lonesome tonight, for he has the vibrant personality of fire to keep him company.
But in his old age, the man has become blind and careless.
The flame which could once have been his friend, released from the clutches of safety, becomes a monster of intense, radiating heat.
The old man, too frail to walk, stares in horror, as the flame that had once been nothing more than a tiny spark, begins to consume everything.
Soon there is nothing remaining of the old man's house but a precious few burnt pieces of glass and wood, along with his own charred remains.
The inferno races uphill, merciless, devouring flora and fauna alike.
Men in large trucks make a desperate attempt to douse the fire, but to no avail.
Nought can stop the ferocious onslaught of the beast once it has begun.
But now, when all seems lost, a gift from the heavens appears.
Precious water flows from the sky like a waterfall, the sound of rushing water drowning out the hum of helicopter blades, as the inferno hisses its defeat.
All that follows is the sorrow of those mourning the dead. The old man has nothing left to say.
The reign of the flame has come to an end.
