[ WP ] Lost life

He knew it had happened before the official reports were sent out. There had been something in the angry rattle of the winds, in the harsh consternation of the moon ’ s gaze, a feeling that the earth was struggling to keep itself from exploding up into the sky. When the announcement finally came that afternoon everyone on the island was stunned into silence—they had been caught off guard and, overcome by surprise, they were robbed of their ability to react. 
 
 But Noah was not. While the rest of the world had been stripped of thought of emotion, left exposed and vulnerable to the ravages of the wind and sea, he stood as tall and straight as a pillar that stretched from the heavens and pierced the center of the earth. While the rest of the world floated on the earth ’ s surface as limp and listless as fallen leaves, there was a fire within smoldering within him that threatened to reduce them all to ash. 
 
 He did not mourn. Nor did he channel his grief—his sadness was not smooth like the surface of a lake and did not gradually pacify itself in the arms of the ocean. It did not dull the senses, it did not saturate his skin and did not threaten to overcome and inundate him. It was not a deluge—it was a conflagration. 
 
 What started as sparks he fed into flames. They warmed his hate, they illuminated the darkest and most odious corners of his mind that he had long ago allowed to fester and fall into disrepair. And in the light of his anger the world around him seemed to shift. What stretched before him now was an empty vessel, a vacuous and meaningless medium through which to actualize his desire for vengeance. 
 
 With a seething heart he set about setting the world afire. 

