The shapes were... exploding. A world of red as though a car had careened down the hill and ruptured in a volley of blood. Yes, it was just a city on fire, but it spattered and ate at the sky as though someone was being murdered.

And they were being murdered. Murdered by heat and lies and treachery. Trapped in their houses because of promises not fulfilled... I know this because he told me.

I don't think he was lying.

I was coming down the hill that fateful day of doom. He was coming up, dressed all in black, with a shotgun slung over a shoulder. He stopped at the top of the hill, when he saw me, and held up the shotgun. For a moment I imagined a blazing scream to rip from his throat, for him to scare the gods into apologizing for everything that had ever gone wrong in this man's life. He didn't.

'Boy.' He looked at me, his eyes ablaze and the world ablaze behind him. The sky was filled with smoke. I could barely breath to look at it. 'Boy. If you're going there... don't.'

I gave him my best quizzical look; what else could I offer when fear and wonder were at the brink of the steep decline, marveling as the city crumbled into ash.

'What do you mean, sir?' He set the shotgun back down against his collarbone and turned his back to me. He stared down at the city. I could not tell if he was remorseful or proud. He didn't say anything and I wondered if that was his answer, so I tried to gather meaning from it. I could not, and so asked, 'Why should I not go down there?'

'I used to have a family.' His voice was slow and old, burned dry and smoked out. 'I used to have my Maria, my little boy Sammy, the house, a whole good life...' His voice died away but I thought I heard just the glimmer of a sob at the end. He waved his free hand drunkenly at the inferno and sighed. When I said nothing, and he said nothing, the cruel laughter of fire drowned out the ghastly screams that the razed city threw into the night air.

'Sir?' The shotgun quivered just slightly and I stepped back, afraid of him for just a moment.

'And then... and then...' He waved his hand again and this time it came to rest on his face, hiding me from the silent tears he was shedding. He gathered himself together and lifted his head up and the shotgun settled again into its place on his shoulder. 'And then this.'

I stood silently next to him, feeling a lonesome sort of pride well up in my chest as I watched the city crumble. One day I could say I was there. I looked at up at the man beside me, watched as he fell apart as the houses and buildings and streets were buried in a heap of ash. I wondered if he would ever be proud that he was here the day it all died.

'And now...' He straightened himself again and went on. 'They were there. Down there. They... I don't think... They're dead, I'm certain of it.' I looked at the shotgun and wondered what his story was. If his family was in some way connected to the gun, if the gun was connected to the fires. Maybe they were all intertwined.

'I'm sorry sir.' He looked at me, his gaze almost fatherly. His eyes were ravaged with grief.

'Just... don't go down there. That city, it has nothing for anyone. There is nothing left for me there, except for all that I left behind.' I looked at him, and I looked at the city. For a moment they merged. I hastily blinked, and they became separate again. I nodded slowly at him and looked sorrowfully down at the city of destruction as it writhed in the grasps of Death.

'I won't go there, sir.' I turned back to him, but he was gone. Only the glint of red fire streaming of the metal of the shotgun danced over the hill as he left the city below.

(2) ——> by tentative
(2a)——> by raincomplex
(3) ——> by tentative