Part 2. 1: Blaze
Sweet, freshly baked cookies smothered in miniature chocolate islands.
The oven takes me in it's arms, smothering me in warmth and it pulls me to Cloud 9
where quilted blankets wrap and circle around me like a living taco.
Soft melodies dance in my ears,
twirling and spinning with soft laughter,
gliding through reality with the marvelous feeling of weightlessness.
Sweet, hushed whispers asking me- pleading to just,
just take a little peek,
one small look...
Falling for the temptation, my eyes slowly flutter open.
A world on fire.
My bedroom isn't my room anymore, or more like it isn't the same.
The bed's on fire but it isn't burning.
Flames lick the comforter
but it isn't burning in the sense that it is being reduced to black ashes.
Everything is an altering shade of oranges and reds and pinks.
I can still smell the delightful aroma
that only comes from the bakery down the street
that my mother loved to visit when I was five.
Nothing else has been bothered by the fire.
I climb out the bed and place a foot on the floor
only to see the creaky wood erupt into flames.
I quickly retract my foot and stare at the floor in surprise,
There is a fire was in the shape of my right foot.
I gingerly stand up and giggle as the flames spread across the floor and tickle my toes.
What a strange dream.
Now, I am curious.
I begin shuffling and skipping around the room, picking up things.
Soon I lose all sense of caution and begin playing with the flames
and throwing little sparks up in the air and around the room.
I do not notice the signs.
The room temperature increases to the point where it is scorching.
The flames are no longer fun or playful,
but hiss and slither around, burning the walls and floors.
Fear begins to kick in.
Blackened, burly arms of smoke wrap tightly around my neck.
I had allowed myself to become enchanted;
and in my wonder filled stupor,
dream becomes nightmare.
Sizzling.
Creaks.
Groans.
Muffled sirens and indistinguishable shouts.
Screams.
I rush over to the door and try to get out.
Push.
Pull.
The metal door knob does nothing but scold my clammy palms.
Clutching my throat, I begin hacking and hyperventilating.
In vain, I continue to bang desperately against the door.
The edges of my vision are rimmed with darkness
until all of it fades away...
