Here we go! Another one! FFM is pretty much over, but I can catch up with my postings and such. So here's one:

Life

It was raining. Why, then, did the fire burn so brightly, casting its radiant glow over the three, the woman, her raven locks burnt black as smoke, the man, his eyes burning with the embers of life, and the thing, it's nigh shapeless form cold, but intelligent. The three were the only ones left, you see. Their powers were drained, their knowledge and memory all that remained of the world that had come before. 

The world, that still had had life.
But they had hope, well, the man did. The woman had fear, and the thing had only the truth of what was to come, and could not speak of it.
But they toiled, relentlessly building the fire, their backs roiling with sweat, peeling with burns, as they searched far for fuel, labored endlessly, to create the star.

The star would bring back heat, and the witches could rest. It would bring light, so they might wake, and see what remained of their world. They would recover, and could then work more, bring back plants. They would create animals, and watch over them. They would die, long before the world was complete--but they could do nothing else, and they did not complain, nor give up.

And thus, they died in peace, with renewed hope for the future.