It was night.

  The sky twisted in a strange way. Air bends around people as they run, ashes of burning buildings capturing the sky and clouds. The town is on fire. It is burning. Men and women scream as the fire attaches to their bodies, burning with an orange hue and a red outline, hot enough to sizzle out any hopes of life. Some people fall to the ground dead without any injury. Some split in half with their organs visible. Some simply vanish into dust.

  This place was a town, your ordinary town just five minutes prior. The town of Lockwood was small, but simple. Simple homes, simple people, simple ideals. Then it just began to burn, on a regular Saturday night. Any other night. A night of quiet. A night of sorrow. A night of death.

  A boy was running, merely fourteen years old. He ran as fast as he could, faster than he ever had before. He had to get home. He needed to get back to his family. He saw people die next to him, saw them cling to their loved ones as they were blown to pieces. When he reached his home, it was ash. Nothing remained. He ran into the flames, looking for his family, his mom, his dad, his baby sister, until he stopped. His baby sister was there on the floor, split into fours. She was only two. He was too horrified to speak. Then he heard it: the cries of his mother from the kitchen.

  He snapped back to reality and ran to where the kitchen once was. His mother was on the ground, missing her lower torso. “Mom! Mom!” Darrel screamed. “Son… son, you need to go,” Daisy Roanshaw said. “You need to run!” He refused, telling her he wouldn’t leave, but she insisted. "I'm not going to live, you- you need to go" She was right, she was a doctor, the town’s doctor, and there was no way for her to survive this. “Darrel, I said run!” she shouted.

  He ran out of the ruins of his home and back into the streets where people were still dying. He cried and screamed, wanting to fall to the floor, wanting to curl up and die. Why was this happening to him? Why his town? Why? As he ran, he tripped over the body of his own father, his head caved in from force alone. “…Dad.” He broke. Any hope he had burned out in that moment, the fire inside him dying completely. He did not stand up. He stayed there, laying next to his father, weeping.

  Around him, the town still burned with that orange light that made you shut your eyes. Explosions shook the ground. Tornadoes the size of small homes tore through the streets. Lightning storms cracked overhead. All of it was there, destroying his town, the town with no value. Darrel laid on his back, crying harder than before, but then he saw something in the sky. A figure. A person. A being floating above the destruction, its features hidden by smoke. He stared as the air seemed to move out of its way, as if the ashes avoided it. He could only see one feature now, a smile. “A smile?” he whispered. He thought he was dreaming. A person floating? This was real life, not a movie. He shut his eyes, prepared to die.

  Suddenly, a man with tattered, ripped clothes picked him up. The man’s face was bruised, blood running from his head, looking to be in his thirties at least. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” the man yelled as Darrel passed out in his arms. He was saved. He was given a second chance. The mans name was Gabriel. Gabriel ran through the fire into a field adjacent to the town, he crossed the town’s borders without looking back, and kept running until he reached a small trading outpost not far away. Inside were three other survivors. He banged on the door, yelling to be let in. A man opened it. “Get in! Come on!” Michael shouted. “Thank God.”

  Michael locked the door and stayed on watch, long blond hair falling around his face, his bronze eyes almost holy. “Is that a kid…?” Uriel another man in the cabin asked as Gabriel set Darrel down on the floor. “Is that a kid…?” Uriel another man in the cabin asked. Gabriel set Darrel down on the floor. “Yeah. I found him laying next to a dead man.” “Could have been his dad,” Raphael a second man said. “I wouldn’t doubt it.” The men finally took time to rest. Took time to take all of that in. What had just happened to their town.

  They began to introduce themselves to one another. Maybe to get their minds off the tragedy they had just suffered. “My name’s Raphael,” he said. “I live—lived—on the east part of town. In a small shack. Nothing fancy. My family… we kept it modest.” Raphael was a roughed-up looking guy. His hair was dark brown, and his clothes were no better. “Uriel. That’s my name. I lived northside.” Uriel had gray-blue hair. He looked only twenty-three or so. His eyes were green, but lost. He did not speak much, and when he did, he kept it minimal.

  Michael was still at the door, standing and looking out the window. “I’m Michael. I didn’t live here. I lived in Lumenhaven down south. I was merely passing through before shit hit the fan.” Michael was rich. He looked rich. He was the only man in the room who wasn’t dirty. “The name’s Gabriel,” he said. “I lived in the town square. On the streets. Trying to find a sense of purpose. I grew up pretty poor, and to be honest, I was prepared to die right there in the middle with my saxophone.”

  He held up the now-dirty instrument slung over his shoulder. “Why didn’t you?” Raphael asked. “Just—give up.” Gabriel looked down at the kid, Darrel, still asleep on the floor. “I guess… I just felt like I needed to save this kid.” “You risked your future for a kid?” Uriel asked.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Yeah. I guess I did.”

  Michael finally sat down. “Does anyone know what happened?” he said with a sigh. “Why one minute it was fine and then the next it—y’know. Boom.” “Forest fire?” Uriel suggested. Raphael looked at him, annoyed. “I think you cracked the case, man.” “No,” Gabriel said. “No forest fire could have done that. People were dying in horrifying ways.” Michael leaned in, intrigued. He had never been in the town when the attack happened. He had hidden in the shack as soon as he saw a fire tornado. “How so?”

  “People were sliced in half, as if a giant knife struck them down. Or they would just implode on the spot. Whatever this was, it wasn’t natural.” Gabriel explained “What, like ghosts and stuff?” Raphael asked. “Ghosts aren’t real.” Uriel bellowed. “Yeah, well, the attack says otherwise.” Michael looked down at Darrel. “He looks young. Definitely under sixteen.” “I’m trying to figure out why he just passed out once I picked him up.” Raphael leaned over and checked Darrel’s pulse.

  “Well, he’s alive. So that’s a plus.” “Flop Trauma Response,” Uriel said. “I’m sorry?” “It’s a state people go into after experiencing a traumatizing event.” Everyone looked at Darrel now. “The kid is not unconscious,” Uriel said. “He is perfectly awake. Just not present here in the moment.” “Gosh,” Gabriel muttered. “If that really was his dad laying next to him… then he probably saw his entire family die.” …Why us?” Raphael said. “Why our town? We meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

  “That—” Uriel said quietly, “that I can agree with.” Uriel shut his eyes. “Why us.” Everyone in the cabin began to fall asleep. The rain pattering against the roof of the shack provided a needed comfort. Outside, the fire still burned. Dimmer than before. Quieter than before. It was meaningless now. Just like the town it destroyed. Just like him.

  Like Darrel.

  Only a few hours later Darrel awoke. He sat up looking around to see the men that saved him. They were all fast asleep by this point. Darrel stood up and walked outside. The rain had stopped. Darrel looked out onto the horizon and stared, at the glowing moon shining down on the ruins of Lockwood. He began walking. Walking back into the town. He walked through the streets. The streets he used to play in, that he and his mom would shop in. The same streets he held a girls hand for the first time in. It was all gone.

  Tears began flowing down his cheeks, slower and quieter than before. He sat down on the ashy grass, staring into the moon. Trying to make sense of all of it. His town meant nothing to anyone except its residence. So why would a disaster, so grand happen to them. Why couldn't they have been overlooked and better than that why did Darrel get a second chance. He thought that over a hundred times. Why did he survive. Why did those other men survive.

  Why. Why. Why.

  He thought back to the figure that he saw in the sky, and the white glowing smile it showed. It enjoyed the destruction. What if. What if it caused it. Darrel thought to himself. What if whatever that was, destroyed his home. Killed his loved ones, took everything from him. But that wouldn't make sense either. Magic isn't real, right? He didn't care anymore. Even if it wasn't magic that thing had something to with it. He just knew it.

  "Your not meant to understand yet..." a voice all to familiar said. Darrel turned to see his father? But that cant be, he's dead. The apparition sat down next to his son, glowing a other worldly green. "D- dad.." Darrel mustered. "Not quite, Not quite." His father replied. "You are not meant to understand a thing, but you will." His father pointed to the moon, its glow seemingly got brighter. "You In all truth Darrel, were not meant to survive this attack. But In all truth...you did." Darrel's expression was indescribable. His tears falling with no weight.

  "You will become something great son, something people will respect. Someone who will do the good for the people no matter the cost." The father declared. "You will avenge me and your family, not out of rage but out of purpose. You survived for a reason." silence filled the air. A his fathers figure flickered for a moment. His dad looked at him one last time, with a smile that warmed Darrel.

  "Make me a promise son...you grow up. You will change, and you will save everyone, everyone who cannot save themselves. No matter the cost".

  "I promise" Darrel said, his green eyes staring intently at the figure. He blinked, then blinked again, and the figure was gone. Darrel looked down at where his fathers feet where and he saw a small flame. A flame that couldn't burn a blade a grass. A flame to dim to shine. Was what just happened a hallucination Darrel thought to himself. Or was it something else.

  Something Greater.

  He didn't know, he wont know. He got up, walked back out to the trading cabin, and fell back asleep with the other men. Darrel was broken. he was, he wanted to die. But something inside of him burned now, not brightly. But it was there. A burn telling him to survive. To live. To help people. But behind that small flame burnt something else. A rage, a rage for wanted to avenge everyone for what happened here that night. But that was there for another day.

  He shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  Darrel was meaningless. He was. But maybe the world was going to be kinder to him.

  Maybe, just maybe.

  He could mean something.

  Something Great...