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Embers of the Fallen
#WritcoPoemChallenge
Into the flames rising out of a setting sun,
I draw in a deep breath before I run...
The orange glow of the dying day stretched across the sky, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for me, pulling at my feet. A thin, acrid smoke hung in the air, curling upward like the fingers of a ghost long lost. The horizon before me was a twisted, burning ribbon, the flames licking at the world as if trying to devour the remnants of the sun.
I didn’t know how long I had been running—days, weeks, months? Time had bled away in the chaos, each moment a blur of fire, fear, and fleeting memories. The world had changed. It had been a slow descent, a collapse so subtle that few had noticed it until it was too late. But now, the earth was scorched, and nothing remained but the remnants of what we once called life.
*Into the flames rising out of a setting sun...*
I paused, just for a moment, to steady myself. The air was heavy, the heat unbearable. But I couldn’t stop. The fire behind me was relentless, gnawing at the land with an insatiable hunger. It wasn’t just the land that burned now—*I* burned with it. The desperation, the loss—it was a fire in my chest, clawing at me, driving me forward.
I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t.
The winds picked up, sweeping the ash in every direction, and in that swirling chaos, I saw it again—my destination. The silhouette of the old city. What was left of it. The broken towers, the shattered walls, the streets choked with dust. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A place to go. A place where maybe, just maybe, there was hope left. Or so I told myself.
I had heard rumors, whispers in the wind, stories carried from mouth to mouth by those who had managed to escape the worst of it. There were survivors there. Some people who had managed to hold onto something. Not much, but something.
I sucked in a breath, the smoke burning my lungs, and I turned to face the inferno.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered to myself, though I wasn’t sure if the words were meant for me or for someone else. Someone I used to know. Someone I used to love. The flames reached higher, clawing at the sky, and with a final glance behind, I set my legs into motion.
The heat intensified with every step. It was a race against time—against the fire, against myself. But the city, the ruins of it, kept calling to me, like a distant memory tugging at the edges of my mind.
As I ran, I felt the heat of the world pressing down on me, suffocating, but there was something else in the air too. Something cold, something… familiar. I was no longer sure if the world was...
Into the flames rising out of a setting sun,
I draw in a deep breath before I run...
The orange glow of the dying day stretched across the sky, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for me, pulling at my feet. A thin, acrid smoke hung in the air, curling upward like the fingers of a ghost long lost. The horizon before me was a twisted, burning ribbon, the flames licking at the world as if trying to devour the remnants of the sun.
I didn’t know how long I had been running—days, weeks, months? Time had bled away in the chaos, each moment a blur of fire, fear, and fleeting memories. The world had changed. It had been a slow descent, a collapse so subtle that few had noticed it until it was too late. But now, the earth was scorched, and nothing remained but the remnants of what we once called life.
*Into the flames rising out of a setting sun...*
I paused, just for a moment, to steady myself. The air was heavy, the heat unbearable. But I couldn’t stop. The fire behind me was relentless, gnawing at the land with an insatiable hunger. It wasn’t just the land that burned now—*I* burned with it. The desperation, the loss—it was a fire in my chest, clawing at me, driving me forward.
I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t.
The winds picked up, sweeping the ash in every direction, and in that swirling chaos, I saw it again—my destination. The silhouette of the old city. What was left of it. The broken towers, the shattered walls, the streets choked with dust. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A place to go. A place where maybe, just maybe, there was hope left. Or so I told myself.
I had heard rumors, whispers in the wind, stories carried from mouth to mouth by those who had managed to escape the worst of it. There were survivors there. Some people who had managed to hold onto something. Not much, but something.
I sucked in a breath, the smoke burning my lungs, and I turned to face the inferno.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered to myself, though I wasn’t sure if the words were meant for me or for someone else. Someone I used to know. Someone I used to love. The flames reached higher, clawing at the sky, and with a final glance behind, I set my legs into motion.
The heat intensified with every step. It was a race against time—against the fire, against myself. But the city, the ruins of it, kept calling to me, like a distant memory tugging at the edges of my mind.
As I ran, I felt the heat of the world pressing down on me, suffocating, but there was something else in the air too. Something cold, something… familiar. I was no longer sure if the world was...
