the mesmerizing fire


The advertisement had said there would be plenty of wood for the fireplace and there was.  It stacked neatly on the small patio, taking over the space entirely.  All we had to do was crack open the slider and bring in the few logs we needed to replenish the stash inside.

It became a rotating game for a few nights while we lounged in our snow covered hideaway.  A few logs would be burning wonderfully warm in the fire box.  When they disappeared to glowing orange coals we would replace them with the logs that had been drying in front of the open flames and those, in turn, would be replaced by a new batch of logs pulled in from the patio.

Round and round we went, from sitting to stoking to gathering to sitting again.  The long hours of darkness in the cozy room passed quickly.  They always pass too quickly.  The early morning alarms of the following day send us to bed long before we grow tired of the mesmerizing fire.


Poor phone,
I was close to fixing you
But then flash and sizzle
And something inside you died.

Dull groan,
I thought I knew what to do
Until the smoke rose up
To elicit my sad cry.

Hope flown,
I finished with heavy heart
Then learned the damage done
Meant our time had come untied.

Last tone,
I will make a final call
Before you are shut down
Just to remember you by.

New phone,
I have high expectations
But don’t worry too much
For something inside me died.

Truth and Fiction 4


Though, of course, we’ve already agreed that is a terrible title for this series.  What can I say?  I’m a sucker for routine.

The Fiction:

The high altitude air was so much thinner than he was used to.  Having come from sea level, his whole body was unaccustomed to the lack of weight in each lung filling breath.  It caused him to gasp at times chaotically through the laborious hours of the day.  It caused him to tremble when there didn’t seem enough to carry on and he wondered if he would fall before the darkness took him or the other way around.

Even the warmth of the day seemed effected by the thinness of the air as it fled quickly after the sun began its descent below the horizon.  While the light still kissed the sky, the temperature would plummet faster than seemed possible until layers were forced to be added or additional shivers and shakes would wrack his frame.

Some small comfort could be taken from the fire each night.  It became a beacon of hope for the day ahead and a victory torch for the day already survived.  It could not hold back the cold completely, for only the surfaces facing it would warm until he found himself constantly turning back to front and front to back to give each angle of himself an opportunity in its caress, but it was certainly better than not having a fire at all.


The Truth:

I have two copies of The Erratic Sun signed by myself and by Revis (yes, by both authors).  I was thinking of giving them to people who promised to write reviews in return.  I was thinking of doing another contest.  I was thinking of just letting them sit on my shelf for a bit longer.  The truth is, I’m not quite sure what to do with them.


What do you think I should do with them?



Let them go

The words dance in my head,
And I listen to them,
And then I let them go.
Because, you know,
Their waltz, you have all said,
Isn’t what you came here for.
They aren’t why I started either,
Though they were always there,
Moving to the beat of the fire,
That burns fiercely,
Blistering my insides,
Never allowed to bubble out.

But, what if I unleashed them,
Set them free to raze,
Would I find relief then?
A lie, a sin,
They would spiral round all prim,
Elegant and impeccable timing,
A show for all to praise and watch,
But even at that hour of the clock,
I would find no peace in the ticks and tocks,
To spill the blaze here,
Would be to disappoint others,
And that pain would be far worse.

So, I shall endure for a time,
As best I can,
With the flames eating my soul.
I’ll hide the toll,
Of this facade, this ruse, this grime,
That is the brave face I wear,
Despite the obvious cracks and tears,
And the holes, where flames grew too near,
Doused quickly to hide my fear,
But the singed edges remain,
And the tatters thin and break away,
Until, I need not worry, for nothing will be left.

“and then *poof* he was gone”

and then


A breeze tugged at the hem of his robes.  He was aware of the slight play in his attire, as he was aware of everything around him, but it held no true interest or concern.  He simply catalogued the wind speed, should he have need to factor it into a spell later, and moved on.  There were miles yet to cover before the sun set on the day and the miles already covered had not been kind.

Puffs of dust lifted away from each footfall and then settled before the next step was taken.  It wasn’t the only sign of his passing, but these marks in the trail were the most obvious.  Not that he expected to be followed, or cared if he was, but he was still mindful of the evidence he left behind.  There were tricks and spells he could use to hide his back trail, but he was in too much of a hurry to bother.

The sun lowered itself upon the horizon, spreading the last of its warmth and glow in shrinking patterns and shapes.  He marked the stretching shadows.  He marked the settling chill.  He marked the changing colors in the sky above.  Each of these could be a factor if his magic was called upon.  Still, he progressed steadily forward.

When the moon decided to slip free from hiding, he would stop for the night and use its muted glow to make a hasty camp and eat.  He would trust his wards, woven into the fabric of the clothes he wore, to protect his short sleep and then in the morning, before the sun had begun to climb free of the opposite horizon, in its chase after the moon, he would journey on.

His destination waited two days ahead of him.  There would be a fight.  Blood would be spilled.  Hopefully not his own, but one could never be certain of these things before they had actually happened.  Still, even uncertain of the outcome, he must go.  He owed it to those who had gone before him.  He owed it to himself.

Thinking of the looming battle stirred emotions best left in check until his journey was over.  Electricity crackled from his clenched hands and fire roared briefly in his eyes.  Closing their lids, but not stopping his forward steps, he took a deep soothing breath and when he opened his eyes again the fire had gone.  He tucked his rage away, saving it to unleash when he arrived and faced his tormentors.  The fire rightfully belonged to them and they would see it in due time.