Moon

No one likes the feeling of being alone, especially as a two year old little boy. Sitting outside on the damp lawn, watching the place where you've been living with your parents burn up into bright, scary flames that dared to lick the neighbor's houses, but never did. In the background, you heard screaming, people were running, talking on phones, like the ones your parents had. A little girl stood sobbing into her mom's chest, wearing pajamas similar to your own. Soon, loud wails of sirens added to the noise, you wanted to cry, but you were too confused to cry. Where was your mom? People started clearing out, tall, mean looking men were walking around, talking, taking the places of the screaming people, and the sobbing little girl. One comes up to you, he bends down, his face was narrow, like your dads. He says something, but you don't understand, you don't want anyone right now, you just want to feel the sharp grass underneath you, scratching and clawing at your legs, while watching as the smoke flumes roll off of the ashened, near complete crumbled home in front of you.