A short short story

a story without a plot, named character, setting, ending, etc . . .

Something happened one day that changed my life. I remember the searing heat against my skin; a red hot glow that pierced through darkness as quickly as it moved, flickered, collected, and destroyed everything in its path. Already I have you. You may be thinking of a tremendous fire, one that washes over forests and villages, reducing everything to a small pile of grey ash -- ash that drifts through the air and settles, remorseful, on the bodies of victims. However, this story begins with a flame somewhat less dramatic: a match. I remember the soft scraping sound, and then a sizzling. The red tip produced a tiny explosion that gave light to a few feet in all directions except back. There was a small bit of light towards the horizon, but the sun was not visible, and most of the world was cast in pitch darkness; the dead limbs of trees, shriveled skeletons in their melancholic silhouettes. And then it was alive. The tiny flame licked at my fingers, like a hungry beast desperate for its first meal.  There was nothing here but death.  The village was gone, and the forest along with it. Smoke rose -- a symbol of those who had lost their lives . . . or rather a grave stone. I bent down and sifted through objects and relics covered in black from the soot. I had made a mistake by coming here. I should have turned back. But it was too late now -- I had gone past the point of no return. Beneath a downturned picture frame there was a piece of paper, blackened at the edges where flame had touched it mercilessly, taunting it, making it feel a pain that cannot be felt. But somehow, the paper had survived. On its back, a message was inscribed. I couldn’t help but read it.

By the time the message had fallen from my hand, the sun had begun to reveal itself, gazing sullenly down at the field of death I had waded through for at least a mile. I found myself thanking the unnamed god that it couldn’t cry, because of it could, it would have put itself out long ago. I looked towards it. My first mission, failed. My second, decreed by the note discovered in black sand, had begun

Author's Note

Just a short short story I wrote.