The 45th Fire: A Tale of Apocalypse

I took the picture for this Friday Fireplace Tale out in front of my house last night. It was beautiful, yet sad. Many lost it all, leaving with only their life. Some, not even that. The end is always coming, so we must always be prepared to meet it in whatever manner we choose.

The Begin of the End

The sky got darker and the ash got bigger as he excitedly leapt back to his car.

“It’s began, it’s finally starting” he gleefully bellowed, firing up his old Toyota with a blown head gasket.

“The end is here!”

The flames were starting to shoot up the canyon-side leading down into his hometown. The town above was now large chunks of ash and black smoke flying overhead, blotting out the sun and creating a twilight that lasted all day.

There are two types of people in the world: Those ready to see it all burn, and those that hope it never does. This guy though, he was just so glad to be in the end times, to fight demons and his fellow man in the Ragnarok!

He had been preparing for this moment his entire adult life, for what is the end but something to look forward to? All those classes, all that gear, all that training and prep could now be utilized. It was like plucking the first ripe peach from a hand-raised tree, years of labor and anticipation for one juicy bite.

The wall of flames was starting to come down the ridgeline towards the sleepy little town he resided in. He hoped most would get out, but where? The world itself was on fire, just not all at once. They could go somewhere else for some time, perhaps. The thing is, the end doesn’t wait too long. It might trick and make a person think it’ll pass them by just to land right on top of them.

The rest of the dried food was loaded, something he knew would be a luxury in the coming days, good for subsistence and/or trade. Of course people will try killing each other for those materials in the coming weeks and months, but the first few days can be pleasant with evacuees and others seeking comfort and companionship at the start of the end.

Oh, those would be the best of times!

The last few memories many would hold into the harder and longer nights, ash constantly falling. The fires had only just started. Many thought that would be that, but fire doesn’t stop if there is fuel to feed it. The air had become dry, the moisture sucked out of many things for years. Plants had also absorbed more CO2 becoming more flammable. Maybe even more flammable than “insignificant increase” the scientist Gods had predicted.

Even Gods fuck up. This time, they had really fucked up.

He looked around in his normal room in his normal house one final time, the brownish haze of sunlight giving it a faded look, the smell of smoke slowly wafting in. Would he even remember it in the coming hardships? Would he look back at his sedentary life and miss it? Perhaps. He knew he would miss the simple pleasures, but the coming flames will make them only sweeter.

Opening the front door, the heat of flames hit his face, his nostrils burning by acrid smoke.

He left into the amber colored haze, a smile etched into his soon-hardened face.