Wandering Into Inferno

Tunnel, with walls black as coal. Feeling her way around, looking like a drunken fool. Cutting her hands on the sharp edges, she screams no more. The pain is familiar, no longer an unwanted surprise, but a comfort. She had not fallen into the abyss yet.

An orange glow appears, like a small candle. A strange invader. Not from ahead or above, but under. The floor was bright now. Orange as a pumpkin, and warm. The heat rose, she began to sweat, the droplets racing each other down her face and diving off of her nose.

Unfamiliar light, no comfort gained from it. The heat claws at her throat, griping it tight and squeezing with powerful force. She gags. Her breath is gone. She lies down onto the floor, her face stings and burns as she slowly succumbs to her inevitable fate. Her palms lie flat, blisters forming. This new pain. She cannot scream. She is gone, and left only a pile of ash behind.