Everyone thought that cavemen were imbeciles. All they had to do was put the pieces together to build a fire.

To invent fire you only need a few things.

Tinder, air, heat, and friction – those combined were all that was required for man to move from the treetops to the forest floor. A flame to scare away predators. To light their way at night and allow them to capture prey, and cook the meat which their hunt provided.

To advance to the next level.

But what if fire was not something earned, but something given?

What if it was a gift?

A gift that could just as easily be taken away…

That was the reality we awoke to ten years ago. When the gift of spark and flame was taken from us.

And the world was cast into darkness once again.

Without fire, the world is a much colder place now.

Oil and gas production ceased. Steel could no longer be made. Power generation and clean water were interrupted.

Every stove and every computer, every car and EVERY THING that required a spark or a flame ceased to function.

And society ground to a halt.

We've been living underground for the past year, trying to survive the constant onslaught of marauders who roam the lands, ruling what's left of society.

But now there's a new problem.

What none of us had ever considered was that the fire gifted to mankind served another purpose.

To ward off the things that ruled the Earth before we did.

Things borne of darkness and shadow. Things which hunt in the night without requiring any light.

The new dominant species.

They're outside now, trying to get in. I can hear them groaning and wailing like banshees, their claws tearing at the steel bars which serve as our protection, sealing the doors closed upstairs.

My wife huddles closer for warmth and I pull the blankets more tightly around us, shivering in the darkness.

It is quiet for a moment.

And then…

A sound of something breaking through the threshold shatters the silence and there are clawed footsteps clicking across the floorboards above us.

I can hear their rank breathing and imagine their snouted faces hunting for our scent in the air.

And then they begin down the stairs, moving towards us.

They pass swiftly and surely over the floor tiles of the basement, racing towards our hiding place, no longer hidden.

Only one more barrier is in their way. This one is far more flimsy than the last.

They scratch and wrench the door against its frame. The wood heaves and buckles, deformed and twisted in a few short seconds.

And then the frame snaps like popsicle sticks and the door crashes in, splinters flying everywhere.

They burst through, jostling for position, and are upon us a second later.

Our screams sound out loudly, but no one hears them.

In an empty world without fire.