Somewhere, the city burned. Fires engulfed it. Flames choked all. Dark, sweeping palls of malignantly, ominously caliginous, sooty smoke settled on the abject, beleaguered city. It's austral end was far from the epicenter of the conflagration, but even though that had originated in the boreal sector of the metropolis, still the austral side burned. Things astral that should have been present, depending from, arrayed in the tenebrous night sky, were consumed wholly by the odorous smoke. Fuliginous clouds were omnipresent. The nine hills the conurbation sat astride were larruped by deadly blazes. Some bewailment echoed throughout the precincts of the apocalyptic city. Ferrous vehicles suffered destruction. And, at the news desks of the city's newspapers, computers and other electronic terminals exploded in a sizzling, sparkling eruption that sent yellow-white electronical embers flying everywhere; which in turn, just added more flame to the already comburent, dying city. One reporter, his hands smudged with fuliginous markings-no doubt gleaned in the fires all around him-reached around his once-pristine, burnished desk, and grasped a sooty pen and a partially-burnt sheet of yellow legal paper from a ruined pad that lay charred on his desk, still smoking, and brought it down to him and his bastion of safety: the underneath of an upturned desk, whose walls were scarred by cretaceous scrawls and much ash. Though his hand shook, he wrote the tale, told the story, reported the history and full truth of the blaze. He felt it was incumbent of him, even if he was amandine, mantled in the husks of almonds that had spilled from his desk when he capsized it in order to provide a buffer and a firebrake for the sparks that spewed out of the conduit without warning. He set the spastic piece of paper against the scorched walls of his desk, and began to write
(Note: This is the end of part one. Tomorrow or some other time, part two may follow IDK. Maybe only if people like part one and are hooked on it)
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