Wood cracks and pops. Sparks leap with joy as they dance to my feet. The heat of the flames is enough to burn the edges of my cheeks, but I welcome it. The fire is everything right now. Consuming me.

The dancing flames enrapture my curiosity with their waltz. Spirits as orange as the sun, as red as blood. Even blue peeking from the edges, like the ocean arrived to aid in the elemental whirls. 

Gazing at the roaring pyre is hypnotic. Whispers invade my senses with stories of my past, present, and future. Visions of somedays and maybes. The rushing intensity combusts with radiance. 

An ember flares, landing on my finger. I try to pull away, but I can’t make sense of movement. Have I become a hostage to the fire? I try to scream, to shake the fear from my head. I am incapacitated. Incapable of freedom. Ensnared by the flames.

But am I? 

The roaring morphs to a shrill piercing call. I close my eyes against the terror, only to fling my eyelids open as reality regurgitates. The smoke in the air is a gale of snow, screaming across my face. Biting my skin. Icing my veins. I cannot shield from the piercing pellets.

My fingers are frozen to muted stumps. I am beyond shivering, beyond feeling. Held tight in a blessed mirage while the blizzarding North seeped into my unconscious.