Firestorm

Through his glowing eyes, he watched the dancing flames move in a rhythm of chaotic destruction. They spread quickly, as there was much fuel, the entire reason for him choosing this spot. He grinned as the people of the village ran, only to be shot or bitten and added to his army. None escaped his wrath, and at the thought he smiled. He caused this. The fire, the devastation, the havoc-it was all him, and he took comfort in it. He watched as the flames lit up the sky, the stars all but blocked out. Breathable air was replaced by smoke as the fire raged, but he remained rooted in his spot, holding his infamous diamond pickaxe as he felt terror run through the veins of the remaining villagers. He watched the chaos he created reign, the flames he made dancing before his cold, unforgiving eyes. Grinning as he took in the sight of destruction, he walked towards the village as the last villagers were being mauled by his zombies and the flames started to die down, having created a smoldering path through the middle. He walked to the middle of the settlement, marked by a bell, watching the flames calm their devastating dance. He rang it once, grinning. What good this did them, he thought as he looked at the ruins. He didn’t hide behind honorable means for destruction; he knew what he was doing was wrong in the eyes of many, and he didn’t hide the fact that his flames brought death and destruction. But from flames came embers, and from embers came new fires. He knew this, and he knew that from his power and wealth this village would be rebuilt better than ever with his flag flying from the rooftops.He knew, without a doubt, that this world would one day be his once the flames died down and the firestorm was over.
Category:Literature
Category:Original Stories
Category:Original Stories (Unfinished)
Category:Fiction