The last thing I remember seeing is the flames that stretched to the top of the trees eating away at the leaves and connecting to the next tree as if the God's were lighting torch after torch. The fire was greedy with smoke that danced about the raging fire and billowed across the land before it. The flames were not yet satisfied with the poor branches until it sucked the life out of all the plants leaving them for nothing but a pile of crumbling ashes.
Bright yellow and red with hints of orange and subtle blue the flames twisted and flared across the tree tops dancing up along the trunks. I wasn't aware then, but the fire would be the last thing I saw for some time.
My name is Simone Urbain...
... and I don't remember what fresh air smells like, how the grass feels under my fingers, or how sunlight feels warming up my skin. Why? Because I've been held underground with three hundred other people. Time tends to run together when you can't distinguish day from night.
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