literature

Seared Smile

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Pathos-of-Truth's avatar
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Literature Text

In a split second, everything was shattered. The thick silence of a humid summer evening was torn apart with first a single scream, then the sweeping “whoosh” of a lit gasoline trail spanning what could have been several miles. The sleepy families all along the street were instantly alert; some waking to much more frightening sights than others. Some woke to see an orange glow, pulsing at their windows, others to sheets of flame already licking at the foot of their bed, having already devoured most of the house’s contents. Tens of voices broke into the crackling ambiance, hurriedly shouting commands and headchecks, while those voices too were interrupted by a myriad of pained screams, all of which emanated from those houses already being digested by the ever-growing, burning monster. Several minutes later, all of the survivors were gathered at one end of the street, still doing headchecks while tending to wounds and the tears of those who lost loved ones. First one siren, then two more became audible, and then the long-awaited orchestra of the emergency services – ambulances, fire engines, police cars – about thirty in all, flooded into the street, immediately rocketing to their respective roles. The police immediately cordoned off the area, started an official roll-call from police records, and also made a low-key call to the coroner to collect the bodies of those who failed to escape in time. OF the paramedics, they waited until each person had been called on the roll, then graded the severity of their injuries and treated them in descending order from the most severe, five of which had to be rushed to the emergency room. Finally, the firefighting crews had begun putting out the house fires they could, after covering any and all gasoline left with water and sand.

An hour later, all of the fire had been taken care of, and a light drizzle had set in: it was once this gentle addition came along that the survivors truly realized the implications of what had happened. Whole families huddled together for warmth and support, thinking of the possessions and memories that were now gone, never to be recovered. On the other end of the scale, there were a couple of residents sitting off to the side, all on their own; one was looking up at the sky with his mouth slightly agape and an unseeing glaze over his eyes, the other was curled up in a ball next to a fence, clearly shaking as she cried for her lost mother, father, and brothers. Both of them had charred skin or burns somewhere or other, but those were the least of their now-countless worries. It was now that the police decided to begin questioning everyone; “Did you see who did it?” and “Where did they run to?” – They only acquired one reply, to which they pocketed their notebooks.

“Do you see that smiling teenage boy over there? Yes, the one being loaded into the coroner’s van. It was him. And do you know what else? All of the burnings and burn patterns here tonight were done in the shape of crosses, and in the name of our lord. I quite honestly ask you this one question; where is our god now?”
As I waited for one of my exams to finish a couple of years ago, I got a bit bored and started thinking. This was the result, just thought I'd share it with y'all. :D
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