Dane Recaido (11) | STAFF REPORTER
A chill crawled down my spine as I fought back the burning waves of despair that weaved and encircled my heart. It took my breathe away, leaving a dull thrum of the lingering reminder of the loss I let slip through my fingers. I was powerless against it as I watched the burning flames engulf the building with unnerving restraint.
Thick ashy smoke rose heavily into the night sky as the fire raged on, consuming the small cottage with burning intensity. The arched roof was ravaged with gaping holes that emitted acrid black smoke. The foundation of the small cabin looked on the verge of collapse.
A numbing sob pierced my throat as I stood, perched on the edge of my property with nothing but an overwhelming pit of regret. I imagined the fresh-cut lawn that rested on the foot of this quaint cabin. The large square windows and the intricate swirls on the ceiling that I could spend hours tracing with my finger. I imagined my piles of artwork stacked haphazardly around the walls of my home.
Now, I was left with nothing. But it was necessary to leave behind everything as it would only weigh heavily on my conscious as I departed this old life. This blissful quiet life in this cabin surrounded by nothing but green meadows and luscious trees had rejuvenated me with a naive sense of hope.
My tired eyes scanned the scorched grass as the harsh flames illuminates the sky with a blazing intensity that rivalled the rising sun. A soft breeze lifted my dark curls as they swayed like the thousands of wild daisies that engulfed the area.
Not even the serene growth of nature around me could withstand the pressing shadows of horror that were instilled within me.
It was the cusp of dusk when I lifted my aching head and willed myself to finish what I had started. With shaking hands, I lit a match and staggered across the ground until the pile of books in front of me was within my reach.
Then I stepped back and raised the match that blazed bright and eagerly as I dropped it in between the stacks of leather-bound books. Like fireworks exploding against the night sky, the pages erupted in blistering flames.
