Detail: One of my first practice writings when I was a kid. I consider this the “Start” of my writing.

      A kitten of youth buried his body against his mother that protected him at all turns.  The wind was loud and the cold grew with the smell of burning flesh following close behind.  The flames reached higher to the sky, that once was a bright blue, but now it was just black with a tint of gray here and there.  The cats walked past buildings that once were filled with cheer as the owners used to greet the cats with treats and care, but now all that remained was broken glass of tears.  The kitten stopped to take in the detail.  He thought maybe they would come out and lay a bowl of clean water out.  He thought maybe somewhere in the flames they rested.  He thought maybe-

“We must go.”  His mother said
“The humans.. They..  left us..”  He said slowly as his eyes shifted to his mother

His mother had eyes of cold glass.  Small drops of tears fell to the ash under them.

“No.  They’re in a better place..”

The kitten buried his body against his mother once more.  With tears of fear.  A body of sadness. 

“Mom…  I miss them.”  He said as the flames grew around them and the smoke covered the skies.

The cats both could not push on any more.  They stayed in that spot until the breath of death took them back to the time when they knew no fear.  Back home.