Burn. Writers Block Poetry Contest Week 1

"Burn."
The fire rages fierce, flames surging from windows blown outward by the impressive heat. Smoke as dark and black as ink billowed from every crevice of the aged building, blotting out the sun and shrouding the ground in shadows.

"Burn."
If anyone had been unlucky enough to be inside, their last moments would have been a hell of heat and unbearable noise. Noise loud enough to deafen as the flames crack, winds blow, and items explode in the excessive heat.

"Burn."
Water jets towards the building creating the hiss and mists of steam, but failing to push the fire back. The building creaks, and tilts, its wooden frame incapable of withstanding such a holocaust.

"Burn."
Firefighters trying to control the flames are pelted with hot, nearly molten shards of glass as yet another series of windows give way to the flames. Some are injured, all are frightened, all but one.

"Burn."
He thinks to himself as he watches the fire, his fire, his passionate vengeance, consume what outsiders would call his childhood home.

"Burn."
It becomes less of a thought, and more of a state of ecstasy as he watches the beautiful colors of flame burn down the home that was his own hell, the only regret in his heart that the man who had hurt them all those years ago, was no longer inside.

Burn