Roasty Toasty

I feel it singe my body, almost too hot to stand it. Yet my back is freezing. Funny how sharp the contrast feels when part is warmed and part is left unattended to face the dark night.

I twist and shift in my seat, trying to gather more of the fire’s warmth. I edge closer. And closer. I can feel the burn on my outer layer, tanning from heat just like sunbathing. I feel weightless, suspended—part air, part fire.

The fire has caught my scent. It changes direction and licks at me, tasting me. Closer, closer. The embers look like a sea beneath me, a rippling golden sunset. And night is coming. Night is overtaking me. But it feels so warm, so hot. So incredibly, deliciously hot. I want to stay here forever, despite the burn I feel upon my skin. Despite logic. Despite instinct.


The fire….is….enveloping me…I can feel it…devouring me whole….

Then, Ha! Cold blast of air. Extinguished!


Crushing…white…stabbing…moist….pulling apart…swallowed.

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