A small wooden house stands quietly on the outskirts of a forested area. The setting sun casts a warm glow. On the edge of the world, far from the city, a family of three lived in peace. Dean, a joyful 10-year-old, races down the hallway with a toy plane in hand. Zack and Zoey sit on the couch, sharing popcorn and watching TV. They glance toward the hallway, smiling.
Dean (yelling playfully): Captain Dean, ready for take-off!
Zoey: He's really into it today.
Zack (chuckling): He's got your fire.
Dean's toy slips from his hand mid-run and bounces down the stairs to the basement.
Dean: Oh no! Not again!
A figure in black clothing and gloves crouches by the side of the house, holding a container. His face is hidden by a hood.
Dean's voice, older: But someone else was watching…
The mysterious figure begins pouring gasoline around the edges of the house, staying in the shadows. Dean is inside the basement, crawling under a shelf to grab his toy. Unaware. Dusty, dim light.
Dean (muttering): Almost… got it…
The figure flicks open a lighter, the flame reflecting in his dark eyes. The gasoline ignites near the wooden back porch. Flames start to crawl rapidly up the walls. From the living room, the orange glow is suddenly visible through the window. Zack sits up straight, alarmed.
Zack: Zoey… what the hell?
Zoey (eyes widening): That's fire!
The mysterious figure walks away calmly into the woods, flames growing behind him. Only a dark shape remains.
It wasn't an accident…
The living room is now glowing red orange from the spreading fire. Thick black smoke begins pouring in from the kitchen doorway. Both parents rush to their feet, covering their mouths, eyes wide with terror.
Zack (standing up suddenly): THE HOUSE!!
Zoey (coughing): THE FIRE!!
Zack: Where's Dean?! Did he go outside?
Zoey (panicked): I haven't seen him… HE Was PLAYING!!
A faint clink sound comes from downstairs, the basement door is cracked open, and now smoke is starting to drift toward it. Zack grabs Zoey's shoulders with urgency, eyes locked.
Zack: We'll cover more ground if we split up.
Zoey (tearful, nodding): O-Okay. Be careful…!
Zack runs toward the hallway, shouting: Zoey bolts toward the back door, coughing through the smoke.
Zack (yelling): DEAN! DEAN, WHERE ARE YOU?!
Zoey (thinking): Please be safe, baby…
The fire is now raging flames burst through walls; the ceiling above begins to crack and fall. Smoke fills every corner. The house is becoming a death trap. In mere minutes, their home was no longer a home… but a burning grave.
Dean is curled up in the corner of the basement, hugging his toy plane tightly, eyes wide in fear. He hears crashing above.
Dean (thinking): What's happening…?
Zack opens the basement door and sees thick smoke pouring down the stairs. He hesitates for a second… then bolts down.
Zack (thinking): Please… let me find him in time!
Zoey kicks open the back door but is met with an inferno outside the whole back porch is engulfed in fire.
Zoey (screaming): ZACK!! IT'S COLLAPSING!!"
Sweat and soot cover his face as he sees something faintly in the shadows.
Zack (gasp): …Dean?!
Flames are now curling down the staircase, and parts of the ceiling are collapsing. Dean is trapped, backed into a corner surrounded by burning debris.
Dean (screaming, eyes wide): DAD!! MOM!! SOMEBODY!!
Zack freezes for a moment as he hears Dean's voice echo through the smoke. His eyes sharpen.
Zack charges down through the smoke-filled basement, shielding his face, yelling back:
Zack (thinking): That way he's still alive!!
Zack (yelling): DEAN!! I'M COMING!! HOLD ON!!
Dean is crying, covering his ears as burning wood collapses around him. A plank crashed down, smashing into his left arm before scraping along it. Splinters ripped into his skin, peeling it raw as a jagged cry burst from his throat. He stumbled back, clutching the arm, but the sting only deepened sharp, burning, alive until it felt like the wood had left fire crawling under his flesh.
Dean: AAAH!! Dad!!
Zack bursts through the flames, grabbing and tossing burning debris with his bare hands to clear the path to Dean.
Zack (softly): I've got you, soldier. We're getting out.
In that moment, all fear vanished there was only one mission…
Zack sprints up the basement stairs with Dean cradled tightly against his chest. The wooden
railing collapses as he runs, flames licking at his back. A beam from the basement ceiling partially collapses. Zack lowers his shoulder and crashes through it with sheer force, protecting Dean. Zack emerges into the living room. The sofa is ablaze. The front door is blocked by broken beams and falling ash.
The front door was only meters away… but it felt like miles.
Zack kicks and punches through collapsed wood blocking the door with one arm while holding Dean with the other.
Zack (teeth clenched): NNGH!! ALMOST THERE!! (yelling through smoke) STAY WITH ME, DEAN!!
The front door BURSTS open as Zack charges through it, engulfed in smoke, Dean in his arms. Behind them, flames swallow the hallway.
They made it out… but not all of them.
Zack bursts out of the burning house with Dean in his arms. The sky is black with smoke and flaming pieces of the roof collapse behind him. His body burned. His lungs burned. But his heart burned hotter to save his son. Zack sprints across the yard toward a small metal shed, barely lit in the firelight. Dean is limp in his arms, clutching the toy plane.
Dean (barely whispering): D-Dad…
Zack: Just a little further… Just hold on…
Zack kneels on the cold floor and lays Dean down gently on an old, folded blanket. His hands tremble, covered in soot. For a moment, there was silence. A small corner of the world untouched by the flames. Dean's eyes are fluttering closed. His face is pale, left arm burned, body shaking. Zack places his hand on Dean's chest, gently but firmly, looking him in the eye.
Dean (softly): Where's… Mom…?
Zack (off-panel): …She's still inside. (calm but serious) Listen to me, Dean. Stay here. Don't move.
You're safe now.
Dean: B-but… you're leaving…
Sweat, ash, and tears stream down Zack's face. His eyes reflect the fire behind him.
Zack: I'm going to get your mother. I promise… I'll bring her back.
Dean watches through blurry eyes as Zack stands, turns, and runs toward the fire once more. His figure fades into the smoke.
Dean's voice, older: That was the last time I ever saw him alive…
[Dean's Bedroom] Flames crawl across the walls. Zoey, coughing and sweating, is searching wildly, looking under the bed, behind furniture.
Zoey (yelling): DEAN?! WHERE ARE YOU, SWEETHEART?!
Suddenly, a massive wooden beam crashes down near the door behind her, blocking the exit. Another fiery beam collapses in front of the window.
Zoey (gasping): No… I'm trapped!
She turns, slips on burning rubble, and falls hard to the floor. As she lands, another heavy timber beam crashes down on her lower body, pinning her completely. A ragged scream tears from Zoey's throat, raw and piercing, echoing through the wreckage. Hot tears blur her vision, sliding over dust-streaked cheeks. Her leg trapped won't obey her desperate commands; it's as if it belongs to someone else. Her arms shake violently, muscles screaming as she shoves at the heavy beam crushing her lower body, the cold, unyielding weight refusing to budge. Every breath taste of grit and rust, every heartbeat thunders in her ears.
Zoey (sobbing): Z-Zack…! Help me…!! Please…"
The flames get closer. Her strength fades. She lays there, smoke rising around her, still crying.
Zoey (weak voice): Please… not yet… not until I know he's okay…
Zack smashes through the burning hallway, eyes scanning wildly. He spots her through the broken doorway. Zack rushes in and throws the fallen wood aside, finally reaching her. His hands are trembling. He drops to his knees beside her.
Zack (shouting): ZOEY!! I'M HERE!! (panicking) Oh God no no no…
Her face is pale, bruised, ash stained. She opens her eyes weakly as tears slide down her cheeks.
Zoey (whispering): Zack… is Dean… okay?
Zack chokes back emotion as he gently holds her hand. His eyes well up.
Zack (smiling through tears): Yes… our little angel is safe. He's outside… he's waiting.
Zoey lets out a soft sob of relief and smiles with tear-filled eyes.
Zoey: Thank goodness… I just… I wish I could feel his warmth… one more time…
She leans her head gently against Zack's chest. Her body goes still. Her eyes begin to close, lips part in peace.
And with that final thought… she let go.
Zack holds her tightly, his voice trembling. He rocks gently, refusing to believe what just happened.
Zack (crying): Don't say stuff like that… Everything will be fine. I'm going to get us out… Just hang in there…
Zack gently lifts Zoey's lifeless body into his arms. His legs are shaking. The house is collapsing around him burning beams fall, smoke swallows the ceiling. Even with her gone… he still carried her. Because that's what love is. He stumbles forward, coughing violently. His vision is blurring. His arms begin to tremble under her weight.
Zack (thinking): Almost there… just a little more…
His eyes widen suddenly. The smoke has overwhelmed him. Blood trickles from his nose. He drops to one knee.
Zack (thinking): I… I can't breathe…
Zack falls to the ground, his body covering Zoey's. He's shaking, coughing, his face soaked with tears and ash. His strength had reached its end. But his heart hadn't. He lays beside his wife, whispering through the agony, his voice cracking like the burning wood around him. A single tear falls from Zack's eye, landing in the ash below.
Zack: Dean… I'm so sorry… I couldn't… keep my promise… (whispering) Please… forgive me…
Zack stares upward through a hole in the ceiling. Flames dance around the edges. He places a hand on Zoey's shoulder and closes his eyes.
Zack (whispering): God… please… protect our little angel…
Zack's hand slowly slips off Zoey's arm. His eyes close. Both of them lie still together, surrounded by smoke and silence.
Dean's voice, older: And just like that… I became alone.
The entire house is engulfed in flames. Wooden beams collapse inward, sending sparks into the dark sky. The sound of burning fills the air. The fire showed no mercy… and neither did fate. Dean stands outside the small shed. His left arm is bandaged in torn cloth, bleeding and burned. He watches in complete silence.
(Dean's voice): I waited… because he said he'd come back…
Tears well up in his eyes. His lips are trembling. His father's words echo faintly.
Zack (voice echo): I'll bring her back. I promise.
The sky is darker now. Ash falls like snow. The house is a pile of burning ruins. A half-broken wall crumbles into the fire. Half an hour passed. But no one came out…
Dean drops to his knees, still staring. His toy plane lies beside him in the dirt, untouched. His arm is trembling as he clutches it close.
Dean (whispers): …Dad…?
The boy's small body is outlined against the flaming wreckage. He's completely alone, bathed in orange light and smoke. The house was gone… and so was everything in it. Dean's knees buckle. His head lowers. His body collapses slowly to the ground.
My home… my world… turned to ashes.
Dean lies unconscious on the ground outside the wreckage, one arm stretched toward the fire, the other burned and limp. No words. Just wind. Just flames.
The sun begins to rise over the charred remains of the house. Smoke still rises from the ashes. It's eerily quiet a world in black and gray. The fire was gone… but so was everything else. Dean is still unconscious, ash covering his face. His toy plane is in his hand, barely hanging on. His left arm is burned and bruised. I don't remember how long I was out…
Boots step into frame near Dean's head old, worn leather boots. The figure's shadow falls over him. A tall man with a hooded cloak, dark stubble on his jaw, and calm, sharp eyes kneels beside Dean. He says nothing at first.
Mikey (thinking): Another soul left to rot in this cruel world, huh…
He reaches out and gently touches Dean's neck to check if he's breathing. His expression stays calm.
Mikey (softly): You're alive… huh.
Dean's eyes flutter open. Through a haze, he sees Mikey's face for the first time backlit by the rising sun. He hears a low voice.
Mikey (voice fading in): Hey… can you hear me, kid?
Dean tries to speak but only lets out a whisper, eyes still full of shock.
Dean (whispers): …Dad…?
Mikey gently lifts Dean into his arms. Dean's body is limp, head resting against Mikey's shoulder.
Mikey: Don't worry, kid. I've got you now.
Mikey walks away from the burning ruins, carrying Dean in his arms. The fire is dying behind them. Ashes blow through the wind.
Dean's voice, older: He never asked what happened. He never asked my name. He just carried me like it was the only thing left worth saving.
Sharp but kind, looking forward. That was the day I met Mikey… the man who became my new father. Multiple emergency vehicles surround the burning remains of the house. Flashing red and blue lights cut through the early morning haze.
By the time they arrived… it was all over.
Firefighters hose down the last flickers of flame. Police put up yellow tape. A crowd gathers behind the lines, whispering in shock.
Officer (muttering): Total loss. Not even a wall left standing.
A forensics officer picks up a half-burnt toy from the ashes, dropping it in a plastic bag. Another takes photos, their faces solemn.
Firefighter: We found two bodies near the core. Adult-sized.
A detective in a brown coat looks around. Charred wood. No survivors. No camera footage. No witnesses.
Detective: No signs of forced entry… no accelerants left… it's like the fire erased everything.
Ashes blow across the wreckage. One cop coughs and covers their mouth. They didn't know… someone had already come and gone. A walkie-talkie crackles on an officer's chest.
Radio: All units, no survivors confirmed. Mark it as closed… accidental fire. Awaiting coroner.
The officials begin to pack up. The house is nothing more than black debris now. The sky is gray. The last firefighter leaves frame.
(Dean's voice): They never found me. They never knew I lived… and no one asked why the fire started. That truth… died with my home.
In the distance, a small figure Mikey is walking away from the hill with a child in his arms. Peaceful, unnoticed. A pickup truck drives up a steep, narrow mountain path. Fog surrounds the road. The distant forest stretches below. He didn't take me to a hospital… or a city. He took me far away… to the mountains. A quiet wooden cabin nestled between tall pine trees. Peaceful. Isolated. Smoke rises gently from the chimney. That's where I met Cristina. His wife.
Cristina stands by the bedside, looking at Dean with sadness and warmth. Her hands nervously clutch her apron. She couldn't give Mikey a child of his own. So, when he brought me in… she didn't hesitate.
Dean wakes up slowly in a warm bed. His arm is wrapped in clean bandages. The room smells like herbs and firewood.
Dean (groggy): …Mom…? Dad…?
Mikey walks into the room, carrying a small bowl of soup. He pauses when he hears Dean's words.
Mikey (softly): Hey. You're safe now.
Dean jolts upright, confused and overwhelmed. His face twists in fear and sadness.
Dean: Where… where's my mom?! My dad?!
Mikey places the soup down and sits beside Dean, putting a steady hand on his shoulder. Calm but firm.
Mikey: They're not here, kid. I'm sorry…
Dean stares at him in silence then lowers his head and lets out a deep, shaking cry. Mikey says nothing, just sits there with him. That was the first time I cried in someone's arms since the fire… and he just sat there, holding me through it.
Two Years Later
Dean, now a bit older, is outside with two other kids they adopted, Stacy (tough, older sister type) and Bryan (goofy, kind-hearted boy). They're practicing with wooden sticks and doing survival drills. Over time… I stopped surviving alone. Mikey began teaching me survival, hunting, tracking…
Cristina brings out bowls of stew. All three kids run up to her with excitement. Cristina taught us warmth. Patience. And how to laugh again. Mikey is kneeling, showing Dean and the other kids how to strike flint and spark dry leaves. We became a team. A family… even if none of us shared blood. All five Mikey, Cristina, Dean, Bryan, and Stacy sit together on a wooden porch as the sun sets, eating dinner.
He gave us something we never thought we'd have again…
Dean, now 12, sits alone under the stars, hugging his knees. But he's calm. A peaceful expression on his face.
…A home.
The mountain home glowing warmly under the starlit sky. Forest winds whistle gently. Peace has returned.
TO BE CONTINUED…