Fire and Hate

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
The volcano's fury.

Submitted: May 17, 2017

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Submitted: May 17, 2017

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Fire and Hate

 

The mountain was about to become a volcano. It had sat overlooking the luscious, green fields for centuries, a great and silent monument to lord over the plains and town below. The mountain was high and it uttered not a grumble to anyone or anything. One day, though, it had had enough. The mountain was tired of being ignored, tired of allowing people and creatures to walk all over it without permission or thanks. No longer would it sit silently and watch the world, it would hurl its wrath and let all the living creatures know its true power. It would darken the blue sky into a gangrenous red, the fields would shrivel and die before its might and the town below would be reduced to ash, accompanied by a chorus of screams.

The mountain exploded, sending rocks hurtling through the heavens, and it unleashed a plume of fire so hot the water was sapped from the air. The furious plume tore through the atmosphere like a jagged knife, and already people were screaming and running. The mountain-now-volcano roared at the world. The shockwave of its scream blasted through the towns and fields like some great, unmatched predator. Centuries of repressed resentment had festered and molded into a hate so strong it became magma, and the bitterness of the fire would no longer be held onto, no longer be suffered only by the mountain – it would be unleashed on everything else.  

The flying rocks crashed back to the earth, shattering houses and flying at such incredible speeds that people and creatures were obliterated immediately upon impact. The volcano had not yet started its fiery revenge and already the casualties were immense. The fire that shot into the sky rained back down, scorching the grass and sending the people cowering in fear. Never again would the mountain be ignored or harassed. The lava that oozed out of its rim traveled down the slope at great speed, as if actively willing itself to get to the bottom, where it would be able to suck and burn the people below. The screams were greater now, and the excited lava flowed out of the mountain in a fast stream. Everything ran, this predator was beyond anything else in nature, and the volcano continued roaring, roaring the pain away, roaring out its revenge. Everything ran. Everything climbed over one another in their attempts to escape.

The atmosphere was a curtain of smog and bitterness, and everything choked on the fumes. The land was poisoned - the volcano had spread its sickly hate to everything else. The feelings of abhorrence were too intense for these lowly life forms, and they were overwhelmed within minutes of merely inhaling its smoky spite. So enthusiastic was the volcano’s unleashed vehemence that the lava now came out in a flood; it had always wanted to escape and now it was ready to wash the world in its destructive blanket. Nobody could run now, their feet were too small and the volcano’s reach too far. The world was hell. The sky was black, the land a burning red ocean and the rain made of crackling fire. The volcano roared and raged until it could roar and rage no more.

Only ash remained, and for hundreds of years did the volcano sit alone in the middle of a wasteland, and as much as it tried, it was unable to stop the feelings of isolation and sullenness gnaw and jab. And just as the first few plants began to shyly peek out of the ground, so did the fire inside the mountain begin to burn.

 

END


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