The Burning House
A lone winding dirt road splitting off from the highway, the sign crooked and the letters worn, unreadable. The light shone through the tree's barren branches in a bright glow, as the sun peaked just above the horizon, the sky fading from a yellow to a deep purple. The tall trees overlapped one another along the sides of the road and created a roof of branches above the street below. A long dirt road that led to a lone two story burnt down house, the roof caving in and the walls charred; The steps were broken and the door was open to see the black rooms inside. Broken pictures clung to the walls, the glass shattered on the floor; The windows were broken and the curtains gone. The wrap-around porch was droopy and sad. There was nothing around, silence filled the air as the wind made the house creak and shake; The cold wind, winter air, was the only sound in the world around.
The house had caught fire, the sudden burst of flames eating its way up the stairs and into the upper floor. There was no one there to put it out, no one to scream for help. The house had been all alone for a long time, and it finally caught a flame. Finally burning away the dust that the years had left layers of upon every surface the air had touched.
The cat had splotchy gray fur, green eyes, bright green eyes that scanned everything with a look full of fear. It walked away from the house, limping slightly with each step.
(There had been a gas leak?)
The cat had been living there since the humans had left. It had been quite an odd day, people rushing about, packing suitcases with only the things they needed most clothes, food, essentials. Everything being thrown about in a whirlwind of hurry. They had all left that day, forgetting about the small gray kitten they had taken in; Forgetting that they had a small fragile pet, unable to take care of itself