Annie: The Fire Within

Ashes

She cries.

Sitting, hugging her legs, under the shadows of the old oak tree. The tree, its twisted branches reaching out to the skies, the leaves reflecting a silvery moonlight that seemed to penetrate the darkness of the sky.

The skies are ink-black, and they glimmer with the slightest hints of starlight. Shimmering like fireflies, glittering, twinkling, scattered around the vast emptiness of the dark skies.

Around her, there are many, many trees. She doesn't know how many they are, but she knows, she's far away. Far, far away. She doesn't want to see it. Maybe it's not there. Maybe it's just a dream. Hope is like the starlight, only glimmers reaching us, through all the smog. Hope is that one glitter of light that's too small, too far, too unreachable.

She shouldn't have. But she still did.

Annie sobs, wishing, wishing that those tears that streamed down her cheeks would put out her fire. Wishing that they would reverse all that had happened. Or maybe, she's wishing that they would wash the sadness, the remorse, the resentment away. She doesn't actually know. She only feels that bitter sense of longing grasping at her heart. And it can't be washed away.

Now, all was gone... Daisy, her stepmother, her father, her house, her home... all vanished, in a fire. In her fire. When will they even come back?

All she has left is Tibbers. The bear. The bear with a missing eye-button. The brown, tattered teddy bear.

Please don't take this away from me anymore.

All she can do is cry. She can't reverse it. She can't undo it. She can't do anything else, but resent. It was just that childish impulse that drove it, and no amount of patience could bring it back.

Annie looks down at her hand and concentrates.

Swoosh. The crackle and whip of fire sounds and a warm light illuminates the night.

That's her only company, other than Tibbers, of course. And she hopes it won't leave her.

Father used to say, when something is lost, it would take a long, long time to come back. That was when Annie asked about what happened to Mother. A long, long time.

A long, long time.

Tears drop into the fireball, slowly putting it out. Dripping, dripping wet, pouring into her heart. And she puts her back to the tree and slowly, slowly falls asleep. Slowly, slowly, slowly.

***

It's a bright day. It's when spring dies, but summer isn't born yet. The flower smell, the smell of daisies and lilies. That smell. And the wind blows, gently, just so quietly, but you can feel its presence, just there. The wind blows, ever so gently, like it wasn't there, bringing the heat of the unborn summer. The songbirds chirp and caw, mourning the end of spring. Small wisps of white cloud drift across the azure blue, yet slightly grayish sky.

We chase a bright blue butterfly, giggling, smiling, laughter filling the empty silence.

Then I follow her, we skip, skip, skip through the shadowed glade.

And in front of us, there's a huge, huge river. And down there, it's a waterfall. The whooshing sound of water, the dangerous white horses gathering in huge waves, splashing, splashing down the bottom. The birds chirp. The butterflies dance around, waltzing in the clear air.

Splash, splash, splash. Tiny water droplets come in a pretty sprinkle of sparkly diamonds, onto the rocks.

The sturdy, dark gray rocks. They form a line across the waterfall. Jagged edges, shimmering with the sunlight reflecting off the water. Forming a dangerous, yet inviting bridge. A path.

We cross over from the round, shiny, almost white stones in the glade.

Daisy jumps onto a rock.

"Wait, Daisy, no!" I cry out, chasing after her, trying to pull her back while not dropping Tibbers into the water.

"I'll catch-"

Slip.

Whoosh. The water rages, speeds, roars. Pulling her away.

"No! Daisy!" I shout, yet I'm too far away. I reach Tibbers out for her to grab. She holds. Hard.

Tibbers glows, my hand in pain, but no, I hold on. I wish with all my might, Daisy will hold on. Tight. Then I feel it - her grip loosening. My grip loosening. The bear tearing. My hopes dropping.

Whoosh. The water charges, flies, glides. Plunging an innocent, wandering soul into the depths below.

An unheard, unfinished scream.

And there, empty rocks where Daisy had just been, a moment ago.

"Daisy..." I sit down, helpless, staring down the huge waterfall. Splash, splash, splash. Dozens of white horses gather below, a chariot for the passing of souls.

Daisy...

***