Sandcastles: November 2009

Leslie stood there, match in hand. She was cold and the newspaper promised to burn hot if she set it alight. The match stuck, hissing as it lit. She carefully arranged the papers and set them on fire. Flames jumped up, eager, greedy to consume and destroy. It warmed her hands. A spark flew but she ignored it, it was just some ash. Warmth began to creep though her body, but from behind. Leslie turned and saw flames eating the wooden crates that were piled against a wall. Oops. She couldn’t be caught here, the abandoned warehouse had no trespassing signs up and she had nothing to put the fire out. She grabbed the few things she had and left.
“Fire!” Leslie heard the shout and turned. The building had caught and flames were bursting out the windows, trying to lick the sky. Billows of black smoke consumed the blue leaving everything murky and clouded. Whatever, it was just some stupid warehouse; there was nothing and no one in it. The firefighters would put it out and that’d be the end of it. She stood there and watched the building burn. The heat was intense, caressing her skin, making her adrenaline run. She had done this, created this destruction. In some ways it was fascinating, exciting, and in others terrifying. Even in the face of this ruin there was some fascination. There was something about watching things being destroyed that stroked the curiosity and soul in her. Still there was no one to put it out, no sirens or flurry of activity. Leslie started to walk off, she didn’t want to be near here when someone did show up. As she turned an explosion of noise sounded from behind her. The first floor of the building had propane tanks that ignited. She had seen them and forgotten they were there. The force of the explosion had made the flames jump from the warehouse to the building next to it. The flames were already forcing their way into the crevasses, attacking any part that would willingly feed them.
As Leslie watched the flames began to move from one building to another, insatiable, impatient, uncontrollable. Slowly they engulfed everything right in front of her eyes. Now everyone was trying to put the flames out with buckets of water, hoses, whatever they could get. The city was burning. Her excitement turned to terror. Leslie ran to the nearest building and began throwing water onto it from an abandon bucket. People were running, escaping as fast as possible. A few stopped and told her to give up and go, get out. The destruction was too massive, leave it be. But she couldn’t and wouldn’t do that. This was her place, her city, her home and she would not stand by and leave it to die. Too late she realized she had to do something to save it and the flames would no longer obey her commands. She fought for what she loved, all to no avail.
Finally the heat was too much, the flames were everywhere, surrounding. Everyone had long fled if they could. Leslie had heard screams throughout the night of people who were trapped. Each one would haunt her memories. She dropped the bucket and ran. Most of the people had gone south to the river, but Leslie headed north to the hill that acted as an overlook. She stood there, alone and watched as everything she loved was taken away. Look at what such a little spark had created. So much devastation that had reaped great consequences for such a selfish action. Obliterated, annihilated, chaotic, and alone. Watching from the top of the hill Leslie saw the sky turn red as blood. Flames lit up the night sky, so bright, a beacon of destruction rather than hope; but there, calling all the same. The flames seemed to whisper her name, Leslie look at what you’ve done, they seemed to say, was this what you wanted? Tears flowed freely down her face as the full force of the cost hit her. The screams still sounded in her mind of the people that had been destroyed, everything that had been lost.
Half way through the night defining noises began coming from the city. The buildings were collapsing. The flames had incinerated everything inside each building, leaving nothing but a shell. Windows had been shattered out, columns of support were gone, and now there were nothing to hold the facades up. Each collapsed inward, on itself, letting the final devastation claim it. The rest of the night every building collapsed and was reduced to ashes. The dawn came, orange and red, with smoke fading into the horizon. The blaze had stopped sometime in the early hours of the morning, everything was smoldering, with softly glowing embers. Leslie walked down from the hill, into the ashes of the city, black soot covering her. The air was thick and heavy, almost suffocating. Debris were piled around, small objects twisted beyond recognition, mutated by the flames. One or two objects were still identifiable, and they caused more pain as they reminded of what used to be there. Walking through the streets Leslie heard shadows of laughter from children playing in the streets, and vendors shouting their wares. She had razed the city and there was no one else to blame.
Leslie walked to the very middle of town, where the courthouse used to be. There was no longer any building, no prison to hold her or judge to condemn her, no court to decide her fate. Her judgment and punishment would be to remember, to face what she had created and no jury could inflict greater penalty than that. She vowed, then and there, that she would not leave this place until she rebuilt it. Looking over the miles of barren and charred ground the prospect was not appealing. The amount of work and effort was daunting at best and almost hopeless in truth. It had taken mere hours to destroy but to build would take years. There would be those who would come back and help her, slowly, those that returned when it was done, and some who would never come back at all. Leslie kicked the ground, sending ash into the already ash filled air. As she was about to walk off she saw something out of the corner of her eye. A small flower somehow stood tall, green and vibrant. It was a sign of life and hope in the dark and devastation. Strength poured in her as she knew there was still something there, a reason to continue. She looked up and saw someone walking toward her and started toward them. A first step, a new beginning, a second chance.

Sandcastles

Sunday, November 22, 2009

city on fire

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Promise Me

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