Seeing Red

May 1, 2001          



         Firey flames rose up from the ground, engulfing the whole room. Stacey, frozen in fear, was being blocked from reaching the door. Fire was quickly surrounding her, and she was choking on the black fumes in the air. A picture of her mom and her, that was on her nightstand, was now nothing but ash, and melted plastic. That was the only picture she had of her mom, after she died. Stacey was standing beside her window, trying to open it, but not suceeding. It was painted shut. Fire was only a few feet from her now, and she had to do something fast. She grabbed a book that was on her floor, and started beating the window, desperately trying to get it open so she could climb out. She was exhausted though. She was soaked from head to toe in sweat, and could barley breathe. This is it, she thought. Im going to die. Im going to be burned alive. She looked out the window, and saw her neighbors all croweded outside her house. She saw her family, with worried looks and fear on there faces. Firetrucks gathered all around her house, trying to put the fire out. She put a hand to the window, feeling the warmth of the fire slowly making its way to her. She knocked on the window as hard as she could, and one of the firemen looked up. Her little brother looked up at the same time, tears falling down his cheeks.

                  He tapped their dad on the shoulder and pointed to where Stacey was. He looked up and their eyes meet for a brief second. He set his son down, and ran over to one of the firemen. He was screaming something, but Stacey couldn't hear what he was saying. She heard something in her room knock over, and she truned around, starteld. Her lamp had been knocked of her table from the flames. It was half melted. He room was completly back. Ash everywhere. The smell was awful. Burning plastic, burning carpet, burnt wood. Everything. Everything was burning. Except her, yet. She turned back to the window, and saw a bunch of firemen get suited up, and head into the house. It will be to late, she thought. She could already feel fire sliding up her back. She turned around, and was smacked in the face by flames. She backed up as close as she could to the window, but it was to late. The fire was to close. She heard men running up the stairs to her room. She felt her flesh begin to fall off, and she screamed out in pain. She saw black dots dance across her vision. She fell to her kness, fire burning all around her. Firemen busted through the door, and immediatly started putting out the flames. Stacey caught the eyes of one man, and he had to turn away, knowing it was to late. That they had failed her.



April 29, 2006



Jackson Whinthrip was riding his skateboard home, cigarette in his mouth. Dark brown hair, almost black, fell in his eyes. He jerked his head, making it so he could see again. He put the cigarette up to his lips, and took a long drag. He had headphones in his ears, and was blasting music. He took one last drag of the cigarette, and threw it into someones yard. He took his headphones out of his ears and stuffed them in his pocket. He slowed his skateboard, then finally came to a complete stop. He hopped off his board, and pulled out another cigarette. He lite it and took a drag. He walked up the driveway, and walked around to the back. No one lives here. Nobody has for five years. Jackson use to live here, with his family, and his sister. Everyone in the neighborhood complained about this house. They said it made the neighborhood look trashy, and that they should just tear it down, but his dad wouldn't let him. Not as long as he kept paying to have it there. Jackson turned the rusty doornob, and entered the house. Just the way they left it. Nothing different, except a few itmes are removed. The ones that weren't ruined. 

         He walked up the stairs to the second floor. It use to be where his room was. Along with his sisters. He walked in front of her door, and placed a hand on the nob. He hesitated before he entered, but he slowly pushed opened the door. Black. Black ash whirled up in his face, when he opened the door. He walked over to the window, and looked out. He imagined what she had seen. He placed his hand in the exact same place she did. He recalled the looked that was on her face. Her eyes were pleading for someone to come and help her. Her cheeks were tear stained, and her lips were quivering. He walked away from the window, fighting back tears. He walked around the room, going to her nightstand. Or what he thought was a nightstand. The drawer was melted shut, but there was a melted whole leading to the inside of the drawer. He slid his hand in, feeling around for anything that might still be intact. He felt a couple papers and tried to pull them out of the whole. He also felt a box and pulled that out as well. He was alittle timid about opening the box, hoping he wasntinvading her pricacy, but he opened it anyways. He wanted to know more about the sister he had only known for nine years.

         Inside the box were some pictures, bottle caps, and a broken piece of clay. The pictures were of her and some of her friends. They were at the movies. He flipped through them, and saw one of him and her. He felt his eyes weld up, and he got a pain in his chest. It was of him and her when he was about four. She was about ten. They were swinging on a swing set that was in their backyard. They both had a huge smile on thier faces. He folded up the photo and put it in his pocket. He got up, took one last glance at the room, and headed home.

         "Where were you? I thought you were coming straight home after school today?" Jacksons father was sitting in the living room reading a book. He looked up when his son walked in.

         "Oh, sorry Dad. I just got caught up. Whats up?" His dad rose.

         "Oh, nothing. Just been sitting here. Catchin' up on my reading." He held up the book.

         "Thats cool. Hey, I think I'm just gonna go up to my room. That cool?"

         "Yeah that's fine. Hey, everything alright?" He looked at Jackson questionaly.

         "Yeah, perfect." His voice was shaky, and his dad knew where he had been the whole time. It was where he went everyday after school. His dad had caught him there one time. His dad nodded, and Jackson shot up to his room, and closed his door behind him. He took the picture out of his pocket, and placed it in a frame beside his bedside table. He turned the lights out, but put a mini flashlight up to the picture. He feel asleep, looking at the picture of his sister. He had a nightmare, about the night she died. The night she was burned alive, excpet, Jackson was right beside her the whole time. He was experiencing the pain, and fear she was going through. It felt like he truly was there that night. In the room with her, witnessing, and experiencing what had happened. He woke up, a scream caught in his throat, soaking wet from sweating.

         He decided that he didnt want to sleep anymore. Afraid he might get sucked back into that nightmare. He didnt want to think about what it would have been like for his sister. It was hard enough seeing her go through it the day it happened, he didn't want to do it all over again. He walked to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He grabbed his suitcase and a pair of clothes. He shoved a blanket and a pillow into the suitcase, and headed out his door. He peeked around the corner hoping his dad wasn't awake. He wasnt in the mood for questions. He scribbled on a small peice of paper: Went to friends. Hope that's okay. Be back in the morning. Jackson.

         He grabbed his skateboared from the garage, and headed down the street. He didn't exactly know why he was going back to that house, or why he brought a a pillow and a blanket. Why would I want to spend the night there, he thought. He skated up to the house, and walked right in. He set his stuff down, and headed up to Staceys room. He opened the door and he saw a figure standing there, looking out the window. She turned around and Jackson gasped at what he saw. His sister, with the same look in her eyes as before, except now her face was burned, was standing in front of him. He walked alittle closer, trying to get a better look. He didnt quite believe what he saw, but it looked real. When he was only a foot away from his sister, he heard the door suddenly close. He looked back at the closed door, and turned to his sister again. Only she wasn't there anymore. He walked slowly back to the door, uneasy. When he tried to open it though, it was locked. He pulled as hard as he could but the door wouldn't come open. He walked over to the window to tried and open it, but then realized it was painted shut. Then, out of nowhere, the room burst into fire. Jacksons eyes went wide with fear. This couldnt be happening, he thought. He tried the window again, but he still couldn't get it to open. He was trapped. Just like his sister was. He had no way out. The fire slowly made its way towards him and he turned back to the window. He thought about his dad. He thought about his sister. He now finally understood what she was going through. He turned back around, and fire flew at his face, making him fall to his knees, screaming.