Walking ino the burning wood, the ceiling cracles, the sound of the cinder numbs his senses.
“HELP” “PLEASE HELP”
The voice gets louder and louder clearing out the silence, expanding like a ripple in the lake.
“HELP, SOMEONE….. ANYONE”
Rushing in, lifting the burning logs aside with his bare hands, the fire stings like a needle, leaving a mark of it’s existence. Sparking wires hanging from the ceiling, breaking the cracking down.
He runs as fast as his legs could carry him, the child hiding under the table, afraid, terrified and waiting for death, alone sitting there accepting her faith accepting the reality of the demons deep within her.
“C’mon Child” The fear in those hazel eyes, terror struck pupils.
Pulling the little hands as her fingers slip away, he walks out with the infant in his arms, back from the death resurrected back to live.
Slipping figures, slipping death, the dream like no other, the crackling cinder echos in his past like dream lost in time.