He should have known when he first saw the smoke rising over the treetops. Still, he'd held tightly onto the hope in his heart, only to have it dashed in at this very moment, when he could no longer stay blind to the truth.
His ancestral home, the village he had grown up in... It was gone, all gone. It must have been quite a fire to reduce everything to ashes like this, he pondered. It felt weird to think about it like that, the numbness inside of him pushing him to imagine the flames rising.
Was it even worth it, fighting the numbness off?
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Stories Part 2
Historia CortaMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
