Ci'y on Fire!
AN: Just a little drabble I wrote, it may turn into a series of vignettes, but don't count on any kind of consistency.
She could see the world as it was, she was enlightened to what the rest could not or would not see or hear. She would shriek at them, her throat raw with effort, her voice distorted, telling them of the sickly things, the wretched goings-on of that hellish place that they lined up to enter. Lining up like complacent sheep to enter the slaughterhouse, ignorant of the cruelty in the shadows! She tried!
She shrieked and yelled and gave her warnings, but they were deaf to her precautions and she watched as every third fell into the pit of flames below the street. She could smell the flesh burning, but their noses were too filled with fantasy to notice the stench. Fiends! She saw the evil glint in the witch's eyes, the sinister grimace in her mouth, the steel in the barber's eye and the red silver in his hand.
The cheeping of the birds could not hide the dying cries of those upstairs that reached her ears, but the sound of cannibalism was too loud for the rest to hear the noise of skin being torn, of red rivers bursting forth from the broken dam.
The smoke from the chimney did not billow and fold, but warped, twisted, and buckled like writhing serpents. The Vesper's bell would ring and the smell, the rot and evil, would start pouring out of the chimney. Witch! Defiling the sacred! The ungodly smell during a sacred hour! Wife of the devil and the devil himself! The people of London were blind to the demons burning down the city, sneaking in the shadows. The flames licked their heels as they crossed the threshold into the mouth of hell, but they were as blind as they were deaf and dumb.
Why? Why couldn't they see!?