The Write Life

Seducing hearts, one story at a time, Author - Crystal R. Martin



This is a little different, just something that spewed forth, and after a bit of tinkering, I really like it. Let me know what you think please. :)

Dark Side of The Flame

It was all heat and flame when the house burnt down. I couldn't help but be transfixed, like staring at an odd painting you don't understand.  Free floating bits of life, lifted into the air by the flames, drifted around us like hot snow. Each individual little spark seeking freedom from the prison of just existing.

That night burned into my memory like the favorite scar on my knee. I can tell you how the weather felt the day I got that scar. I can also tell you how the smoke tasted like burnt toast.

It burned our throats and made our eyes leak tears. Almost as if bits of ourselves were trying to soften its scalding. Noise and lights and voices all danced in a parody of some funny comedy on the television. I can't process the words of the song they were singing.

It's a distant memory of something my soul sang, but I don't recognize it in this new hot papery world. There is emotion here, it's trapped like fireflies, locked away in the jar, unable to escape into the cool night sky where the moonlight waits.

2 comments:

Love the phrases "free floating bits of life" and "drifted around us like hot snow". Very vivid. Nicely written (even for someone like me who has a childhood fear of fires)

Thank you for stopping by, I'm really glad you enjoyed it despite the fear. :)

Monday, March 10, 2014

Dark Side of The Flame



This is a little different, just something that spewed forth, and after a bit of tinkering, I really like it. Let me know what you think please. :)

Dark Side of The Flame

It was all heat and flame when the house burnt down. I couldn't help but be transfixed, like staring at an odd painting you don't understand.  Free floating bits of life, lifted into the air by the flames, drifted around us like hot snow. Each individual little spark seeking freedom from the prison of just existing.

That night burned into my memory like the favorite scar on my knee. I can tell you how the weather felt the day I got that scar. I can also tell you how the smoke tasted like burnt toast.

It burned our throats and made our eyes leak tears. Almost as if bits of ourselves were trying to soften its scalding. Noise and lights and voices all danced in a parody of some funny comedy on the television. I can't process the words of the song they were singing.

It's a distant memory of something my soul sang, but I don't recognize it in this new hot papery world. There is emotion here, it's trapped like fireflies, locked away in the jar, unable to escape into the cool night sky where the moonlight waits.

2 comments:

Diane said...

Love the phrases "free floating bits of life" and "drifted around us like hot snow". Very vivid. Nicely written (even for someone like me who has a childhood fear of fires)

Crystal R. Martin said...

Thank you for stopping by, I'm really glad you enjoyed it despite the fear. :)

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