Alex was sitting on the grass, her legs stretched out, arms propped out behind her, resting her weight on her hands. For the last twenty minutes she had been watching four small children, running with their mother, laughing, playing. She was particularly interested with the oldest blonde girl.
Her hair was put up cutely into two buns at the back of her head; she was wearing a pink skirt, with a pink shirt. The skirt was frilly, and when she spun, it spun with her, riding easily on the wind. Her little sisters were also cute, the youngest looking one dressed in pink like her sister, and Alex knew the little one looked up to her eldest sister, much like Alex did with her own. The other two looked vibrant, one dressed in pure white, the other in a soft blue. The youngest child, and one of the two middle children had hair darker than the oldest, but it was still an amazing blonde. Their hair was left down, and flowed around their shoulders, dancing on the passing breeze. The one in blue was wearing a French braid in her hair, which was a dark brown – like her mother – Alex noted.
They twirled and ran, giggled and were young. Not yet troubled with worries of an education, work, boys, growing up. They didn't have to yet think about what university to go to, or which boy they would spend the rest of their life with. Alex drifted back to the glorious days, the days of her childhood, when she would get into mischief with her brothers, and not know her sister. A dumb grin played across her lips, memories playing back in her eyes. A storm was coming, the sun quickly disappeared, though it remained warm, despite a rushing wind which had picked up, blowing the girls hair into or away from their delicate features, depending on which direction they were facing.
Brought out of her past by the grumbling of the sky, her unseeing eyes left the family and took a glimpse of the dark mass above them. The clouds swirled together, and then away from each other, full of life and more active than life itself. She saw flashes of lightning above them, and then watched one wreathed in fire, shoot and smash downwards into the earth, hitting nearer to the family than was comfortable.
The girls stopped dancing, the mother stopped laughing; they seemed to have been put on mute, because Alex couldn't hear anything, not even the burst of sound left less than seconds after the connection of earth and sky. The oldest girl, the one Alex had directed her attention towards was now as still as stone, a condition that echoed through her mother and sisters. At first, Alex didn't understand.
Were they hurt?
Then the answer came hard, and came painfully clear to the young woman. The young girl, still unmoving and statuesque opened her mouth and let out the most awful sound Alex had ever before heard. It was the scream of a child in unbearable agony. Her sisters and mother let out screams of like-intensity, but none connected more to Alex than that of the first. The girl's eyes moved slowly, and latched onto the only thing of life she saw: Alex. Their eyes locked and Alex felt a fraction of her pain. It was a wrenching anguish, so hot it felt cold. They didn't fall to the ground, but took slow steps, intolerable, like the time spent leaning into a first kiss. They hands grasped out at the air, clawing at the empty space in front of them.
Alex noticed something strange about the oldest girl's features. The still soft skin of her young, innocent face was aflame. The fire was bright, an angry red, and as the screams, echoed onto the bodies of the others. Spontaneously, the flames burst up out of their feet, legs, arms and stomachs. It spread up into the eldest girls' hair, angrily devouring the golden strands held back once so beautifully. Her eyes were still locked with Alex's, begging, pleading, wanting the pain to finally end. Alex felt so connected with the girl, that when she reached out, Alex lifted her hand to meet the child's. The girl touched Alex's heart, and the teenager yearned desperately to aid the child, rid her of the pain, and take it upon herself. Not realizing, but standing now, Alex's body was shaking uncontrollably, tears streaming down her cheeks, into her mouth, off of her chin. Watching was torture, but she couldn't look away, fearing the child would die more alone than she already was.
A final moan from the girl, and she was swallowed in the searing flames. The only remnant of the young family was ash, like that of burned paper, drifting weightlessly through the air, as though those four beautiful children and their loving mother had never existed. Alex was overwhelmed; her mind wouldn't allow her to connect what her eyes saw to what her brain was wanting: that there was no way she was seeing what she was. She fell to her knees, the girls' screaming ringing in her ears, her doll like face the only thing she could see.
She turned heavenward, the ashes sailing lazily above her in the dark sky. The groaning of the sky couldn't draw her away from what she had born witness to. Those girls will only ever exist now in her dreams, and nothing would bring them back. She shut her eyes tight, willing herself not to notice the smell of burnt flesh being carried on the wind. All Alex could think about was how those girls would never have the opportunity to grow up, to fret about boys and friends, to learn what it meant to love, to feel the hurt of a broken heart. They would dance again; they would dance on the breeze, twirl in the clouds and fall in love with the beauty of a broken world.
Alex opened her eyes, the world again mute, and watched a bolt of lightning, wreathed in flame, come down ruthlessly towards her.