The Burning

I hear the women screaming in the distance, but there is little I can do, before the fire consumes them and swallows the village whole.

I often wondered as a boy what it would like to be a hero.

I guess this is one of those times where I should have stepped up and attempted to save them.

My cowardice gets the best of me, as I begin to smell the burning flesh of animals, hay, and people.

The smoke rises in the air, a white plume of death.

I hallucinate from the fumes, thinking it has turned blood red.

My neighbor pulls me away from the wreckage, handing me a surgical mask to protect myself from the toxic stench.

Here lied, a man who cried.

Denied, to try.

And wished to save those who died.