As he lay there, his face pressed against the warm floorboards, he pulled in a final, reedy breath. Time slowed, and darkness began to close on him. Flames rose as if they were challenging the divine.

There is a big fire.

The basement in which young Tim was in was falling apart. He squatted, covering his head as the burning wood collapsed. The ashy air made it difficult for him to breathe.

It felt strange being in the basement. How did he even get there?

At this point, how and what didn’t matter. His survival did.

The cracking flame grew louder and louder like an oncoming parade. Despite the noise, however, his name was being screamed towards the stairs. He could faintly tell who it was.

It was his father. The father was going to battle the demonic flames to save his child.

“Father!!” Tim cried. His dry lips trembled as he tip-toed his way to the stairs.

The wood continued to fall at random. His survival rate was getting lower with each tick on the clock. The house could say the same. Its destruction was inevitable.

Tim heard his father aggressively banging on the door. He didn’t know why his father was knocking instead of opening it.

Only one thing could be said about his reason. Was it locked?

It could only be locked from the inside, which meant someone had to throw him into the basement and purposely lock it. That act was beyond inhumane.

As time didn’t wait, his hope of being rescued diminished. It was a marvel that he wasn’t crushed by the flames yet.

Am I… going to…die…?

Like his hope, the chances of escaping this red room were almost zero. It was an absolute hell that even a child understood.

Seconds later, he collapsed. Was it because of the lack of air? Was it because his body refused to function? A child like him wouldn't know. His forehead faced the red ceiling. Was this it? Everything around him was burning up, including his body.

He desperately cried for rain. If it rained, the fire would be gone, and everything would be fine.

His ears could hardly hear his surroundings. They refused to work correctly.

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He sighed deeply while staring at the burning ceiling; a thick piece of wood was about to crush young Tim’s skull.

His body ached in immense pain. His mind shattered into a million pieces. It killed him, knowing that his father was aggressively trying to save him.

And he could do nothing besides wait for the ceiling to crush him.

Moments later, out of nowhere, something grabbed his arm.

His watery eyes couldn’t tell who it was, but the roughness of his hands told him everything.

It was his father. Somehow, he got the door open and raced across the flames to save his hopeless son. He scooped him up and tossed him across the fire that blocked the stairs.

Seconds later, multiple bulks of wood crumble onto the basement floor. He wiped the water off his lids. Through the flames, there was a large pile of flaming wood where he had initially collapsed. A hand poked out through the pile.

Tim gasped. He didn’t know if he should feel relief since he was saved or grief since he lost his father.

He mustered whatever strength he had for him to get up.

I have to save him. He can’t die just yet.

His legs wobbled, struggling to stand. Tim’s will to get up clashed with his frail body. Standing on his two feet, a terrifying thought crossed his mind.

What if it was too late? What if… he’s already dead?

His body automatically moved. His legs ran up the stairs, but his mind wanted to go back. He dashed through the doorless exit and swiftly made his way out of the burning house. He coughed all the ashes out from his lungs.

Tim looked around, realizing that the fire was bigger than he thought. The familiar town had turned into ashes.

The trees that were once filled with birds, the carefree songs that children like him sang, the routes with vibrant flowers that acted as guides—they were all gone.

Clouds came and conquered the sky. The breath of baleful unease spread faster than fire itself. On one horrific night, the flowers were replaced with the ashes, and the flames silenced the birds on the trees.

A crowd with a few dozen people formed around Tim.

“It was this man! The fire began at his house, and he’s the only one alive!”

“Twist his head off!”

“Kill him!”

“My brother burned cause of you!”

Everyone pointed at Tim like he was the culprit. The deadly mob stunned Tim with their vicious stares.

I did nothing wrong…?

He had no idea the fire started at his house and spread across most of the village. All he did was get rescued. Someone like Tim wouldn’t be able to start such a deadly fire.

No matter what Tim would say, these unreasonable, unforgiving people wouldn’t listen to him.

He bolted out, running until his heart beat out of his chest. He ran endlessly without a destination till his legs gave out.

While he slid his way through the forest, he questioned one thing.

Wait a minute, where’s Avery?

Tim hadn’t seen his friend the entire second half of the day. He couldn’t remember when exactly he last saw him. He sprinted further into the woods, yelling his name till his vocals gave up.

He stopped briefly to gaze at the gloomy clouds. His wish for it to rain would soon be granted.

The night left him crippled with grief. He dropped onto his knees, crying, begging for the rain to start. Begging for his father back. Begging for his friend to appear out of the air.