She layed near the entrance of what once was her home. But it no longer housed tomes of knowledge, quills and bottles of ink to scratch down memories on aged paper.
It only housed fire, and the ashes of history. The love of her life was dead, and her only friend at that moment was the pounding rain, working hard to extinguish the destructive blaze, too little too late.
~~~~~
A short fic idea I had.