It was dark. Cobwebbed covered staircases spiraled throughout.
The stairs craked relentlessly.
I followed them, going around and around in circles.

There was nothing.

My heavy breathing echoed in the most haunting of ways. Echoes followed me,
some how making this melancholy place more bitter.
But then I saw a spark. It grew and grew until right before me was a fully lit fire.
The staircases were burning but I'd never felt more at home.
The fire grew as days passed. And the more the fire grew, the more comfortable I got.

But then you left, and you took the fire with you.