One Wooden Figurine

Perched on top of a shelf was a wooden figurine, the kind of figurine that artists would use to see how the human body would position itself while doing a specific action. Old and battered, the figurine, once a beloved toy had grubby fingerprints head to toe where its owner had once made the figurine sore over buildings, save cities while battle dragons but now worn down with splinters coming off of it at odd angles, dried paint splatters across its entire body in in small inconsistent bursts of colour faded from the years spent on this self. It now was tasked with watching over the shelf it called home, positioned above a desk located in the top right hand corner of the room. Just like the room, the desk was covered in a thick layer of grime and dust which had settled in, on, under, and behind every surface in the room, causing an unearthly feeling that the room was full when it resembled more of a waste land of ash.

Pitch black mould cascaded from every crevasse of the un-kept room, giving it a god awful stench that would have put blue cheese to shame. A child's room none the less. A room that was filled with memories that they can never get back from the once gorgeous, lively bedroom filled with bright, vibrant shades of pinks and baby blues, every wall and pristine white furnishing outlined with paint so clear you would think it was pure gold reflecting the warm summer light to every surface, taking particular attention to highlight the wooden figure on the shelf. But the effort put into preserving these beloved memories would soon be in vain.

No room was spared by the fire as white hot flames licked every doorway, eager to feast on what was contained inside. Photos of loved ones blister and warped as the raging heat drew nearer, before adding to the already towering flames. It casted shadows on the crumbling walls, the fire dancing with joy while receiving its long awaited meal. Continuing its path of destruction, the raging fire leapt its way up the winding staircase, growing ever larger with every bound, flames spilling over the banister. They had arrived. The room it had been waiting for. The child's bedroom. Mountains of fluffy toys, finger paintings all across every wall and pretty fabric dresses as far as the eye could see. A fire's dream come true.

The room didn't stand a chance, crackling and popping, the rapidly spreading fire enjoyed every single memory of adventures had by the child as they battled dragons and saved cities; taking great care to ensure that the memories were each destroyed beyond recognition, burned into a smouldering pile of ash and despair, all as the wooden figurine watched its once happy home swept away by a single faulty wire in the basement.

The figurine could hear the anguished screams from outside the house as the love filled family returned from their night out in town, and could picture their faces clearly as tears of shock poured down their faces desperately screaming down a phone for firemen to come and control the beast that was destroying their beloved home.

Casting a bright orange glow on the grass that filled the garden, the fire tried to comfort the family, only wanting to satisfy the overwhelming hungry that made it the monster that it was. But it was all in vain. Ice cold water showered down upon the building sending great arcs into the flames creating a beautiful scene of steam, smoke, life and death as the red and orange glow of the fire shone through the water casting dappled remains of light on the faces of the crowded outside franticly trying to stop the feast.

There was no hope for the home, no hope of returning it to the grand building it once was or gathering the lost hopes and dreams that went with the dying flames that fateful summer night. Half caved-in, half being held up by broken beams, barely keeping stable. The house could not and would not home another family again.

Although the fire destroyed everything in its path it never got to destroy the wooden figurine that stood guard on the shelf, only leaving behind a small, out of place burn mark on the side of its base adding to the look of the old worn figure. The only memory to survive.

Still standing the figure stood and watched as a big yellow wrecking ball rumbled its way towards the abandoned building, smoke bellowing out of the pipes on top, growling as if it knew the figurine could hear it coming. Threatening it. Stopping outside the window to the room as the machine craned back the ball of cold, rusted metal before swinging forward shattering the glass, bringing down the remaining side of the building as it did so. Cutting its way through the air, the wooden figurine no longer representing the beloved hopes and dreams of the child; instead, it takes the form of the ironing of how it was destroyed; not by the disaster but by the family that it had protected for years on end. Clashing with the ground the figurine's old frail frame snapped, causing the components to be launched around the rubble and with it shattered the only surviving memory of the happy childhood experienced by the young girl.

Walking on a bear plot of land where her old house was a teen was kicking away at stray stones only to come across a piece unlike the others; a small wooden block old and battered, with grubby fingerprints all over where its owner had once made it sore over buildings and save cites while battling dragons, with splinters coming off at odd angles a small, out of place burn mark on the side adding to the look of the old piece of wood. She tosses the piece of rubbish aside and continues on with her stroll, not giving a second thought to the corpse of hope lying broken under the grass beneath her feet, why would she, it's just one lump of wood.