January 4, year 280
It was winter and the wind blew harshly, but also smelled vile, the smoke emitting from the source was an unusual sighting given the season.
It was a two-story house. It stood tall and proud trying to fight the fire that was tearing it down. Before it, stood a little boy, 9 years old, his name is Bando, he looked at the mountain of smoke, flames, and ash consuming his home with a terrified look.
His eyes jerked from left to right, his mouth gaped open, and his body vibrated. A mini explosion came from the window, from the same room that belonged to his mother and father. The explosion snapped Bando out of his trance and he ran up to the house, as he was running, the roof collapsed in on itself and launched a gale of smoldering heat towards the boy.
Debris flew out of the many openings and hit Bando giving him burns that'll red for only a day or two. He unloaded the bag he was holding and opened the half gallon of milk he promised his mother to bring back. He flung the cart of milk everywhere in an attempt to put out the fire, but the fire roared just as loud as it did. Bando fell to his knees and his eyes watered.
"But mom, we were supposed to drink hot chocolate… right?" Snot dripped from his nostril.
"That's why you sent me to get milk!"
The fire stormed even harder and Bando started to wail out loud. A neighbor took initiative and ran up to Bando and picked him up to steer him away from the house. Bando struggled and tried everything to leave the stranger's grasp. He sobbed even harder screaming out to his mother and father. While he was struggling he managed to turn his position and saw a hooded man leaving the neighborhood, arms in his pocket, and with a suspicious stride.
Bando thought nothing of it as all he could think about was his mother and father. He slipped out of the stranger's grab like butter and ran the opposite way of the hooded stranger. He ran and ran not looking back, since that's all he could do, run away.
He felt powerless as he knew he couldn't do anything. All the things he had wanted to say to his parents ran through his mind. The house had finally lost strength and all of the walls collapsed into one pile to create a big bonfire. It was inetivable, Bando's parents had been burned to death.
Bando ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. All of the townsfolk wondered why a little boy of his age was sprinting around the town.
Bando stopped occasionally for breaks but with no food and no water, his stamina was limited in the long run. Bando eventually made it out of the town and in the middle of nowhere. A desert, but instead of sand it's snow, instead of harsh heat, burning cold winds flew by giving the boy a hard time throughout the journey.
His grandfather lived out in the mountains so he fled to a family member that wasn't dead, his vision worsened as the winds grew thicker and his breath turned to icy mist as it left his mouth.
Bando was losing strength, he was cold and fatigued, he didn't think he would even make it to his grandfather's house. He fell to his knees but didn't give up, he crawled through the thick snow as his limbs got stiffer and stiffer. He face planted on the cold terrain and lifted his head to look in front of him.
He saw a shadow figure emerge from the thick, cold wind. He couldn't make out who it could be. All he knew is that it didn't matter who it was, not even if it was his grandpa, he just wanted help. Everything turns dark.