|Found on Google Images|
FLASH FICTION PROMPT
Burnt to a crisp.
I supposed it could’ve been worse. I supposed there could’ve been a hundred and one more things that might have gone wrong, but instead, there was simply nothing left.
It was ash. Piles upon piles of black, white and grey in generous quantities of indeterminable shapes and sizes.
Gone. All gone. Burnt to a crisp, as if there were nothing more than a hand that had turned a dial one notch too far.
I stood in the doorway of what could have been for longer than absolutely necessary, because when I saw the blackened hole, I realized your wish had been granted. There was nothing left here for me any more. It was all pointeless.
I was finally, dead.
(c) Sara Harricharan