Burn

A Story by wagonburner

Y'know. Fire hurts.

Not just physically. My family was killed in a fire. House burned down around them. That was how I nearly lost my left arm.

Every time I look at my arm, I remember. The nerves themselves are nearly all dead to all sensation. The docs said I was lucky they didn't have to amputate. I dunno.

Sometimes I wished they had. I don't like be reminded of that mistake. But losing your family changes things. I start thinking about my mistake and it transitions to a reminder of my family, long gone. Nothing but ash.

I still remember it. Thick clouds of black smoke billowing skyward in huge columns, the fire illuminating everything nearby. All the snow around it melted. But most of all, I remember the smell. The smell of burning brick and mortar of the old building. The cloying smell of cooking then charred meat.

Not to mention the sounds. The chewing of the fire, the occasional crash as part of the structure gives way. The screams.

They said the fire was too big by the time the fire department got there. I guess someone had to call them in, and by the time they did, the fire was already engulfing the building. The official report stated 30 dead and more were being found in the aftermath. Nobody survived.

Except me.

They asked me to make a statement. I was cooperative and told them I had no idea. I told them I had gone out to get milk.

It was a lie.

I went to there funerals. I gave a eulogy. People cried. I had to stop at one point, I had to regain my composure.

I didn't cry.

They offered me condolences. I had nowhere to go. I was too old to go to an orphanage. I was on my own.

That was fine. I had a purpose now. A fire burned in me that gave me strength I had never had before.

This city was large. I had a destiny that opened the world up to me more than anyone else. Now that I look back on it, I DID want to remember. Next time I lit the fire, I wouldn't stand so close.

I would still try not to smile when they questioned me. They thought I was crying at the funeral. They were wrong.

I was trying not to laugh.