Firestorm

The fog hung in the city’s air
like a thick black cape. The smell of fire was prominent
soot covered everything as people walked over the mud covered cobblestones
planes droned overhead, the whole city was lit up by the glow of fire.
AA guns barked into the sky
searching for the enemy’s elusive bombers.
A man splashed along an alleyway full of houses
seemingly untouched by the flames. They were fakes,
a boost to the fallen morale of a broken country,
a covering for the ash that lay behind it.
The man walked on
his boots squelching in the mud,
oblivious to the cardboard houses that lay next to him.
the droning drew closer,
sirens roared as the man scrambled for the nearest shelter.
As he ran carpets of bombs fell behind him.
suddenly the bombs stopped
and the planes flew away.
The man turned to survey the damage.
Already columns of fire and smoke filled the sky, consuming everything in their path. The winds picked up and slowly the columns melded together,
starting to spin. Faster and faster
the winds of fire spun,
the roar becoming louder and louder.
The man ran again,
running away from the thing he feared most,
a firestorm.
The tornado of flames followed him,
slowly at first but picking up speed.
The man ran,
hearing the roar come closer.
Looking over his shoulder he could see the storm
in its full horrifying beauty.
It had grown arms and legs,
each sinuous finger the size of a tree,
and each leg the size of a block.
The man ran,
feeling the flames lick at his skin
charring it.
He stumbled and it engulfed him in a cloak of heat and fire.
He screamed as it turned his skin and muscle into ash.
His bones crumbled away like sand.
The storm moved on,
leaving behind trails of soot as the ash blew away.