I was standing under the tree alone, watching the ground shake as though it was inside a child's plaything. Pebbles rattled against the drought-blasted soil, and I smiled to see the pale shoots wither and turn brown before me. Leaves came down in great clots like hail, and I remained there, dying slowly on the inside, as the tree died on the outside, so much faster...
Still I stood there, and didn't even look up when I felt the clouds gathering, black as soot and hotter than my hate. I took one step, two, three, walking toward the crevasse that had opened its gaping maw in the earth before me. When it began to rain, I did not blink or run, simply letting it settle on me, charring my clothes and setting the dry ends of my hair to flame like forgotten wicks. It rained fire, not like acid, but like paper, I thought, as flaming bits landed on my arms like butterflies, dissipating suddenly and leaving only the flicker of light behind to sear my skin. It doesn't hurt, I thought without marveling, or even really being surprised. I didn't feel anything, not the wind like that of the desert, not the fire that lit the ends of my ribcage-length hair, scarring my exposed back and stomach with marks that would stay forever, until I myself turned to ash. Certainly not the desolation and despair that I should feel as I watched my world burn before me. There was nothing inside, only a deep emptiness that I felt for sure was scattered with embers at the edges.
My face uplifted to the sky, watching this incendiary rain fall, and one touched my cheek, sliding down like a tear but petering out at my jawline. Another came, another still, and yet more burned me, and I spread my arms wide to receive the bounty from the sky. One foot twitched, then the other, and soon I was twirling, pale limbs slicing through the stifling air like a raindance from another world. Step, leap, arms swinging carelessly. Grace and beauty were furthest from my mind; all that remained was the burning emptiness, that hole I danced to the beat of as I became a part of the pulsating heat. I was this fire that burned the land clean of the green covering it hated to wear, of those like ants who trampled it hard and unforgiving. It rushed down from the heavens to claim me, its lonely progeny, as I danced under the flaming branches. This world was ours; the fires of creation claimed it on our behalf.
The tree fell, and the sky wept sulfur...I danced its demise for the end of the world to see.