Friday, June 10, 2005
Forever
She was walking down the hallway. Suddenly, a girl bolted out of her room. Isn't that Amber? she thought. Low and behold it was, and her hair was on fire. People rushed to Amber, to put out her hair, but as she had run out of her room, she left the door open. Her bed was on fire. Smoke poured into the hallway, but the flames from the bed were still visible, casting an eerie orange glow in the room. Flames.
Flames. They merrily danced around, a wicked dance of joy, for they had found food, a blanket here, a matress there, a veritable feast for the hungry fire, the dance of joy at the beast from the hunt. The flames licked greedily, for they could not be satiated until every scrap of material was comsumed, no waste, for they had known hunger and were eager to devour all that they could. It is their nature...
She was against the wall, just staring into the flames. The fascination. It's always there. I think it's who I am, but in a past life? Or their life? Or something, on the edges of memory. I am sensitive to fire. I know when there's going to be one. I dream of fire, and it obliges me. The fire in the house....dreaming of fire....
She wasn't in the hallway any more.
The house had been on fire once. They had lived there for years, but when that happened, her family had been forced to relocate. Most of their stuff had survived, so in that sense, they were lucky. But she had known it was going to happen. She had come home early. But like so many things that she knew, she never wanted to believe it. Not long after, her mother died. She had known that was going to happen, too. There was so much that she just knew, and it really puzzled her. It always puzzled her. How did she know these things? And those dreams? God, the dreams she had, vivid and frightening, about things...
And then she saw him, admist the flames. Well, It, actually, since it looked more like a demon sent from hell. Who could forget the greying, puetrefied skin, the nobby bumps that ran from the forehead to base of the skull at the neck, and the red eyes...but the voice...that alone sent shivers up her spine. She had seen him once, at the foot of the bed, and he had whispered, I will kill you. And she had almost commited suicide, related to really depressing events, most of which had to do with a drunken stupor. Had that just been in my head, or was I really pulled from the bed like I think I remember? But then she felt the chills, and as people rushed into the room to put out the fire, she heard a faint whisper: I'm not done with you yet.
She ran. Didn't matter where. Outside, preferably, because it wouldn't be there. And as soon as she hit the warm air of the outside, she felt it: There is going to be a fire here. There will be a storm. People will die. I will hear them screaming. People will die. People will die because the demon wants me to perish. Oh, God, I don't want to be here when it happens....
She was walking down the hallway. Suddenly, a girl bolted out of her room. Isn't that Amber? she thought. Low and behold it was, and her hair was on fire. People rushed to Amber, to put out her hair, but as she had run out of her room, she left the door open. Her bed was on fire. Smoke poured into the hallway, but the flames from the bed were still visible, casting an eerie orange glow in the room. Flames.
Flames. They merrily danced around, a wicked dance of joy, for they had found food, a blanket here, a matress there, a veritable feast for the hungry fire, the dance of joy at the beast from the hunt. The flames licked greedily, for they could not be satiated until every scrap of material was comsumed, no waste, for they had known hunger and were eager to devour all that they could. It is their nature...
She was against the wall, just staring into the flames. The fascination. It's always there. I think it's who I am, but in a past life? Or their life? Or something, on the edges of memory. I am sensitive to fire. I know when there's going to be one. I dream of fire, and it obliges me. The fire in the house....dreaming of fire....
She wasn't in the hallway any more.
The house had been on fire once. They had lived there for years, but when that happened, her family had been forced to relocate. Most of their stuff had survived, so in that sense, they were lucky. But she had known it was going to happen. She had come home early. But like so many things that she knew, she never wanted to believe it. Not long after, her mother died. She had known that was going to happen, too. There was so much that she just knew, and it really puzzled her. It always puzzled her. How did she know these things? And those dreams? God, the dreams she had, vivid and frightening, about things...
And then she saw him, admist the flames. Well, It, actually, since it looked more like a demon sent from hell. Who could forget the greying, puetrefied skin, the nobby bumps that ran from the forehead to base of the skull at the neck, and the red eyes...but the voice...that alone sent shivers up her spine. She had seen him once, at the foot of the bed, and he had whispered, I will kill you. And she had almost commited suicide, related to really depressing events, most of which had to do with a drunken stupor. Had that just been in my head, or was I really pulled from the bed like I think I remember? But then she felt the chills, and as people rushed into the room to put out the fire, she heard a faint whisper: I'm not done with you yet.
She ran. Didn't matter where. Outside, preferably, because it wouldn't be there. And as soon as she hit the warm air of the outside, she felt it: There is going to be a fire here. There will be a storm. People will die. I will hear them screaming. People will die. People will die because the demon wants me to perish. Oh, God, I don't want to be here when it happens....
