*This poem/short story was based on a dream I had a couple of nights ago. There's a lot of meaning to it, so pay attention. ENJOY!! :)*
There I felt it. The rage of heat. Something was abnormal. It intensified, and sweat peeled the skin from my shoulders. I touched my hand to the closed door, and there I really felt it.
"Fire!" I couldn't make out who was screaming. A girl's voice. Terrified.
My eyes widened. My deepest fear. I wouldn't make it. There was three stories to get down. I twisted the lock; pulled my sweater through my knuckles, and released the door.
Smoke filled the air. What once was a dreamy white picket fence aroma, was now a disaster. I inched towards the first stair rail and I ran. I came to a flat landing which held a couch. Before there was a young adult completing his studies silently. He seemed content. No-one remained.
I came to the next staircase. What once was a dancing girl; giddy with her moves, was now a disaster. No-one remained.
My pupils held no more drought. I covered an aching cough, as the smoke intensified. I felt the contacts in my eyes shrivel up. They stuck to my eyes. The sensation of hell did not cease. I held my posture as well as my body could. The caps of my knees shook, and I fell; unfortunately into the direction of the now visible flames.
I caught myself on the rail. My heart echoed it's thoughts.
Walls were collapsing, windows shattering. The glass eased the burning sensation in my body.
I crawled to the last staircase. The third one. The final one. What once was an elderly couple exchanging an afternoon talk over tea, was now a disaster. No-one remained. My heart actually slowed it's thoughts, but they were louder. More real. I was almost there. I could see the front door. The sunshine.The remains of the white picket fence. But the fire held it's grounds right there. It smiled. It was too good to be true. The flames were the most scarlet of colors. Beautiful. Antagonizing. Terrifying. But maybe just capable.
I would not make it. I didn't want to try. I didn't want to risk the scars. The pain. I ran back up the stairs towards the smoke. The bland, plain, soundless smoke. It was first base again. I locked myself back into the room, and I didn't even try to help myself.
...
"You know, I need to tell you something. I love you." His eyes like a blaze of fire peered into my eyes. It was real. He meant it.
I looked back on that day. That beautiful sunny day. And realized it was too late. I ran away. Away from my biggest fear. Fire. The warmth. The burn. The pinching amazement of being alive.
But I was back to first base. I would never get out. I was trapped. Alone. Forever. Ever.
