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Flame
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Bright tongues creep across every available surface; hungry mouths that gobble and chew and devour, leaving nothing but smoke and ash in their wake. That is how they appeared to Molly anyway, the flames that raced across the building she was in. Always hungry, never satisfied until they'd eaten wood and brick and flesh and blood and every possible thing they could touch. Things like her parents, and her friends' parents. Trapped in this building, Molly could hear screams for a while, but now all was quiet, just the crunch and crackle of the flames as they ate everything in their path. Try as she might, Molly could not reach them, and so she was sure they would be food for the fire, failed in their hopes and goals; the fiery fate they'd wanted for the world now become their own. We all become food for something else.