Inevitable Ashes ...Common Contamination

Most left the girl alone. She wasn't what one would call a conversationalist because she never talked unless she HAD to. She never had much need to speak. So she found a spot in the corner of a crowded room where she could well for a few minutes, or, perhaps, one whole evening. And no one bothered her. No one ever did. No one ever had. Except for one night, when the city melted in her hands and traffic lights merged into eachother, washed clean with Aphrodite's own tears as the goddess herself watched one more love fall apart. A continuous spectrum of colors: red to green, green to yellow, and yellow to red, collided and turned brown, only to fade out completely when every living being residing in the once beautiful city, died.
The population dwindled and there were two, and no more. But, two managed to survive. Nothing and no one was in sight. There was no trace, to them, that any thing had ever existed before the hushed words were spoken and exchanged between them. This one day, every thing died alone and the city became silent. And, a prophecy, exhausted and old, turning senile with age, was fulfilled.
Before the boy was ever born, they knew who he would be and the people he would meet. They knew almost every thing about him, for it was they who conjured him up from the earth. He began from almost nothing. He WAS nothing. Just an idea. A dream that was never supposed to come to life. And, somehow, accidentally he existed in a lost generation; they never acknowledged the significance of his presence. He floated from one location to another, unsure of his own footsteps and fearful of his shadow. Just as the little girl feared others, the boy feared himself. He would never know quite who he was or how he came to be until the day that the smoggy clouds above the busy city spelled the words, the same words he was born with. And they were carved on his skin, written on her palm: Self Destruct, Self Destruct. And the city disappeared. It dissolved into the ground, much like it had never existed at all. Only distorted memories remained and the thought that maybe it never HAD existed and it had all been a dream.
That day, the city fell in silence. Silent as death itself. And this was the same day that the two creatures, crudely defined as human beings, returned to the land from whence they came. Before they were ever born, and when they were but innocent infants about to be thrown into a corrupt world, the prophecy, that was never meant to exist, was burning on and it hungered for fulfillment. They never understood the danger of mere thought or the petty dreams they dreamt as they lay on their beds after the sun had gone down. On the day the city faded as dusk defeated Helios, they were forced to understand. The night was the beginning of a maddeningly insane nightmare.
The nightmare only revealed itself at night. Some had the notion that it would never allow itself to be seen any other time. But, the day the metropolis reaced it's inevitable apocalypse, it became real to those two select mortals among the chosen. Their eyes were the only ones to witness the terror, their mouths the only ones to retell the story. And their intricate minds were the only ones to relive the unreal and awful decisions destiny forced them to make. The picture was painted and it would never be erased. It would always exist, as real and as frightening as it first was the day the creation of it began.
They would never rid their minds of the way it felt and what they saw. They had been shoved into a circle of blue flames lapping at their clothing, and they would never escape. The only way to forget was to throw it to the side and into the fire where the flames would lick it clean and burn it down to a few specks of ash and dust.
But, maniac curiosity got the best of them deep inside, and conquered this desire. It lived in the subconscious, but through time, made itself noticeable to those contaminated with it. It was quite simple. The past held the secrets. Why should it be burned when it could be read? How could some thing so strong trickle down to nonexistence? Who would do the killing and when would the killing end? Only horror can kill again and again as it replays itself in the human mind. Once real, it can never die. No fire, not even the tremendous heat that comes from the lighting of white-blue flames, can burn it. It held the prophecy that never ends. And the prophecy never dies.