The Midnight Fire  − September, 1992

One night, when I was visiting my grandmother, a family owned gas station about a mile down the road had caught fire. Somehow, I found myself rushed from the comfort of my bed and in front of the blaze, with someone much taller and much older than myself standing beside me.

 As we watched helplessly, our shadows danced quick and playful and the flames swallowed the building. They reached higher and higher like imploring fingers, blocking out the stars, and I imagined  that the sky's belly was being set on fire. A strong and ancient palm held me safely back, and amidst the scrambling legs and frantic voices I felt small and useless.