After the two girls toppled to the bubble he darted to the alley. In his dirty peasant clothes he curled into a ball and cried. People were running down the streets, screaming. Some sort of oily substance was engulfing them, tearing the skin off of some of the peasants.
      His young purple eyes became blurry with tears. Sniffing he attempted to brush his face off on his sleeve. He was afraid that he'd die like the other peasants running in the streets.
      With water in his eyes he peered into the street from the alley. People trampled corpses on the ground trying to get away. They didn't care about each other anymore.
      Out of them the white figure was pushed down. The gentle creature was stomped on by hundreds of feet as blood started covering the bottom of his robes.
      His eyes were even more frightened than the panicked boy watching was. Frantically he searched for help but the peasants ignored him. From his spot in the alley he saw the fresh face get damp with sparkling tears as he tried to move out of the streets. Some more peasants shoved him on their way out.
      Behind the last peasants a red apocalypse overcame them. It ripped apart the stragglers, throwing their limbs away. With wide eyes he watched as it overcame the white man trapped on the ground. His beautiful young face didn't rot away like the others did, instead he seemed to melt into the red flames as the firewall swept by. The young man was gone. Quietly, he stuffed his face back into his arms and sobbed.