The missles shrieked home, and Jiltanith cringed as thermonuclear flame ripped the night skies apart.

Upstream, the flames had ripped at the sky, fifty feet high.

Like an assassin's knife, flames ripped into the greenery where the creature's spine would be if it had one.

His grandmother lives on Vandalia Avenue, and he wasn't sure if the flames had ripped through her building or the one next door.

The flames ripped and tore through the building like an enraged tiger loosed from its tormentors.

It was while he was crossing the rungs that the flames ripped into a frenzy, straining with deadly intensity at the gas tanks.

He built the blaze gathered from Seitforest higher and hotter, until flames ripped skyward with a roar that deafened thought.

The incinerating flame ripped across the jetties like a massive length of detcord, slower but bigger.

But that's what they faced, flames ripping downward to sustain altitude, the alien spacecraft ominous, majestic and almost medieval in its appearance.

Corbec threw himself flat against the side wall of the shed as the flames ripped past him.