Dream of Fire
Sun scorching, cars rushing, the air is humid and the sky a clear blue. The trees shiver in the slight breeze and birds sing. A brilliant day, people rushing about without a thought for anyone else, without a thought for the horrible things about to happen.
A change in atmosphere. Stillness. Three figures walking in the distance. Zoom in, laughing and joking, oblivious to the sudden change. Now, birds are quiet, the trees silent, the whole world holding its breath in anticipation.
Looking over her shoulder, one of the figures notices a teenage boy walking, hunched over, seeking solace in his hoodie. Menacing. She looks back, it is fine, once they are out of the walled path and into the field, they are safe, just a few more hundred metres.
Looking back, five more have suddenly materialised. Shit. Running now, ‘cus that’s all they’ve got. Five against three, it just isn’t possible. They run for their lives. The brightest of the three realise, they are trapped. Trapped between the walls of teenagers. They were close. So close. They might have made it if they hadn’t of been cut off by the other group.
Swallowing back bile, gasping for breath and the palpable fear choking them. Other people are herded in. Suspicion sets in. This was planned. Now, standing in the alley, grouped, about ten people, they are scared. They should be. The teenage hoodies surrounding them have knifes and who knows what is in the minds of youth these days.
Sacks are produced, straw and long wooden poles. It seems like a ritual. One of the three girls is knocked out and stuffed into a sack and covered with straw, taken into the field and propped up. Realisation dawns. She looks like a guy Fawkes doll. Similar sacks are lined up. She is the only one left.
Heartbeat quickens, sweat beads appear on her forehead. Her breath ragged and hard. A pressure in the back of her head. Darkness reigns.
Fire burns. A whole field lit up. So many lives up in flames. Sun scorching, cars rushing, the air is humid and the sky blue. The trees shiver in the slight breeze and the birds are silent in the trees, silent because they are choking on the stench of death.
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