Burn Long, Burn Bright

Chapter One

I awoke to the heat. The feirce heat that scorched, burned seared and ravaged everything and body it touched. My throat too, it left me gasping for air that I never found and gagging on the thick, poisonous smoke. And the smoke, pungent and vile like you could taste its vicious anger and hatred of life. As a great, ferosious creature, the fire consumed the room, roaring and snarling at the very thoughts of my home. Between the sight of the cracking walls and furniture being torn apart, I could hear screams. The. Kind that left you feeling empty and cold and lost in the darkness as a helpless shadow where the beast of black and white and yellow destroyed.

The screaming faded ino the night that I could never see. So did the new sounds of vague sirens and shouts and cries of fear that pushed me further away from reality as they echoed throughout the room. There was no hope I had. I lay very still in the light beneath half razed sheets and crumbling, scorched wood that supported me. Someone held my hand there in the darkness. I swear it. And they whispered to me how brave I was to lie still, not even struggling until a flicker of flame driffted onto my hand. Ppalm up, it seemed to watch me for a few vital seconds, until it grew and bit me and encased my entire forarm in colour. I could still hear the roar of the beast and see every flame and flicker around the room, but they had a painless bite. And it didn't hurt so it wasn't that bad. I think that was the worst part though, when I looked back I can remember the welcoming hand in mine, bothe inquisitive and comforting that I allowed to take me away to drift yet again. And I started drifting more after that.

+++

And it wasn't as hot anymore. First it cooled, like laying a blanket of snow over your bed and letting it soak through until the cold made each bone in your body ache. Only it wasn't snow because the chill had long since assed into April, but in that moment, I could only think of the cold. It was a kind cold. I felt something touch my hand again, and instead of holding it close like I wanted to, I blinked and opened my eyes.

It wasn't snowing, but the beauty of the ash as it fell took away the fear of the fire. And I couldn't feel many emotions just then. Only the stiff, overwelming calm. Like a coat, the silver-grey ash covered my body. My eyelashes caught a flake, like snow does when you watch it fall. Still without the feelings I wished for,I sat up.

It was a bird. A swallow I think. Sitting on my hand I mean, sheltered underneath where my jacket was billowing slightly in the small breaaze. Billowing wasn't really the word, but I couldn't think and it was the only word that came to mind.