Ashes to Ashes
By unfailingtwilight

I dreamt of the fire again. The crackling flames, pulsating heat emitting from the tongues of the blaze. The inferno would sweep across the house, consuming everything that stood in its path. Each night in my dreams, the fire would eat away more of my home. Last night, there were screams. I could hear the shouts of my parents and the terrified screeching of my little brother and sister. For some reason, I always see the event from outside our house, the screams from the inside.

When I told my friends, some chalked it up to me having an inner pyro; the others just thought I had heartburn when I slept. None of them took it seriously like me. Since the dream started three weeks ago, I have woken terrified and drenched in a cold sweat. There is no way in hell that is a mild case of indigestion. Thinking about this nightmare gives me the shakes and for some reason, I believe it might happen. And I don’t even believe in the occult or things like seeing the future before it happens.

Now, whenever I wake up in the mornings, get home from school, and go to bed at night, I walk around the house, inside and out, and check for things that might cause a fire. When my mother goes to light one of her scented candles, I make her have it within arm’s reach incase it tips. I tell my father to smoke outside, in the driveway, so he won’t drop the butt in the grass and light the yard up as well as the house.

My family thinks I’m on drugs with all of my paranoia. At dinner, when my siblings left the table, my mother came right out and asked if I was doing crack or something. I almost choked on my milk.

Tendrils of smoke start billowing from the windows. If I touch the side of the house, I can feel that it is trapping the heat within and it is growing hotter faster. I smell the scent of burning carpet and wood. A faint smell of vanilla wafts out, but it is quickly burnt up in the warmth. The furthest window from me, on my left bursts open and flames lick at the opening. The living room is now completely on fire. I want to yell, but my throat is constricted with all of the smoke that the wind is sending at me. Two more windows break, the kitchen and the furthest corner of the living area. Before flames can come from the kitchen window, the family cat, Penelope, shoots out and disappears into the darkness.

Tongues of fire eat at the side of the house, catching on one of the cables that lead to my parent’s bedroom. A tail of fire races its way to the room, never stopping or faltering. A shout of fear makes me jump, my heart races. My father has woken up and is shouting to my mother. Tears start running down my cheeks. I try once more to move and help them, but I am paralyzed with either fear or by a nameless force. A screech from my brother, Erik’s room sends me into sobs. Squeals of horror pierce the night, a loud noise for such a small girl like Sara. Suddenly, flames shoot out from the top floor windows simultaneously. That is when I finally find my voice.

“No!”

I open my eyes wide, finding I am in my bed, my room untouched by fire, and sweat covered me from head to toe. All of my bed covers are on my floor and I hear my breathing, irregular and gulping for air. My mother opens my door and sees me just sitting in bed, sobbing. Walking over to me, she sits on my bed and wraps me in her arms. Neither of us says a word until morning peaks and breaks over the sky.

“Audri, we want you to take a break, from school, everything. How about going to Aunt Marie’s for an extended weekend?” My father lays this deal on the table as I sit down for breakfast, up early enough to actually eat and not rush to school. I frowned.

“Are you saying this because I’ve been good or are you planning on checking my room for non-existent drugs while I’m gone?” I say dryly, picking up a piece of toast. My father frowns and my mother, who sits down next to me, blushes.

“We’re worried about you. Every night, we hear you scream in your sleep. It’s been going on for a month now!” My mother grabs my hand. “You were in hysterics last night, for God’s sake!”

Setting his coffee down, my father continued. “After lunch, we’ll pick you up from school today, and take you over there until Monday. It’s Wednesday now, so I think a five day weekend will do you good.” I glared at him.

In a final voice, he said, “So it’s settled. Glad you agree.” I glared some more. Yes, I told myself, they’re looking for drugs.

Two nights later, I was out of my mind, wondering if my mother had been doing what I told her. I made her do all of the fire-proof checking that I did every night. I had been antsy all night and Marie noticed.

“You want to check on them?” she asked, looking up from her nightly crossword puzzle. I had told her all about my dreams at dinner the day I got here. At least she didn’t think I had heartburn or was on drugs. Then again, Aunt Marie is the New Age aunt. She likes weird things and that is why I like her.

“Yes, please.”

We drove the five miles that lie between the two homes, but we stopped a half a block ahead of my house. There was a crowd in the street. People were talking rapidly on cell phones and talking to several police officers. I could see the smoke from where we were parked. I ran the rest of the way, blocking out what Marie was yelling. As I got closer, the memories of my dream came to me.

Tendrils of smoke start billowing from the windows.

My eyes were bulging from my head. I started running for the front door but a uniformed man grabbed hold of me and blocked my path.

“I can’t let you near there, ma’am.”

I struggled for words, “But I live here…My family…where are they?” The cop’s eyes narrowed.

“Your family’s still in there?” he let go of me, letting me sink to the ground in despair. He talked into his receiver, yelling words I couldn’t understand. He took a hold of my arm and started dragging me to the sideline where the witnesses and Aunt Marie stood, telling me to stay put. I looked behind me to see that the fire trucks had arrived.

I smell the scent of burning carpet and wood. A faint smell of vanilla wafts out, but it is quickly burnt up in the warmth. The furthest window from me, on my left bursts open and flames lick at the opening. The living room is now completely on fire.

Aunt Marie pulls me up so that I am standing. She holds me in her arms and whispers unintelligent nothings into my hair. Her grasp is like iron and I cannot escape it.

I want to yell, but my throat is constricted with all of the smoke that the wind is sending at me. Two more windows break, the kitchen and the furthest corner of the living area.

The crowd screams and the officers try to calm them down, telling them that they should go back home. A few leave, satiated by the promise that their homes are safe from the blaze. Those with children scurry back to their beds, shielding their kids from the horror that is an inevitable death.

Tongues of fire eat at the side of the house…A shout of fear makes me jump, my heart races… Tears start running down my cheeks. I try once more to move and help them, but I am paralyzed with either fear or by a nameless force… Squeals of horror pierce the night, a loud noise for such a small girl like Sara. Suddenly, flames shoot out from the top floor windows simultaneously.

I find my voice, hiding within the depths of my breaking heart.

“No!”

Rays of sunlight start stretching across the sky, steam and dying smoke rise in an attempt to escape the water that shoots from the firemen’s hoses. The kitchen area collapses taking what was my room along with it.

Satisfied that the fire is out, the water from the hoses dies and the firemen start to pack things away. Only a few neighbors are left, sitting next to Aunt Marie and me. I lay on the sidewalk, my head in Marie’s lap. The gentle stroke of her hand on my hair makes me sleepy, but sleep will not come. I cannot cry any more tears. Sleep, like my family, is lost to me. The Williams family talks quietly with Marie and I choose to ignore them. I glance at what was once my home, where I grew up, and see movement from where the garden used to be.

Penelope, our black and gray tabby shifts its way from the ash and runs toward us. She jumps in my lap and purrs, though they sounded somewhat shaky. I pet her, getting ash and dust all over myself and Marie. I look at my cat, who seems to be just as scared as I am, and whisper,

“At least you listened to me.”