Life between fires.

I stood in the open doorway of a charred room in a dark house, wind gusting through a broken window as the sooty curtain remnants danced along what was left of the sill. The smell of burnt belongings filled the air. I recognized this place, I lived here once, years ago. Movement caught my eye to the right, the sound of glass under foot confirming my sanity.

You were wearing all black, your pale features shone in the sparse light that hovered near the window, as if it were afraid to fully enter the room. You stood silent for a moment, your gun powder eyes preparing me for the words to come.


"so this is all that's left"..............Your voice was hushed but clear.


"left of what"...I croaked, finding my voice.


"of us".....came the answer.

I was confused. What did this house I had lived in when young have to do with us? I lived here long before we had come together.

"what....".......................I started.

"it just does".....you cut me off, somehow knowing the question.

"it just doe..."......I started again.

"trust me, don't you feel it here"?.....again with the answer before the question.


"no".....I made sure to be firm this time.


"hhhm".....you turned your dark eyes to the window.

I stepped toward you as you stepped back into the shadow of the corner and vanished. I was alone again, left with a shell of a room long burned out and abandoned.

"maybe this IS all that's left".............I mumbled as I took my turn at the window.

I suddenly felt like a half burned picture amongst the ashes in a cold fireplace. An unwanted memory holding onto to life between fires.