The Flames that Engulfed Us

Chapter 38: Letters Through the Dresser Drawer

It was warm. I took a deep breath. The air smelled like the sea. My fingers dug into the ground, pausing as they dug into the warm sand. I opened my eyes, blinking at the beautiful clear blue of it. The sun was overhead, and as I watched it, it was sinking. I let myself lay on the sand, mildly watching as the canvas of the sky started to adjust its palate, turning a beautiful shade of red over the ocean. The red melted into the west, giving way to a million stars, maybe two of them were even binary—I didn't know, but they did cluster together, giving the sky a texture that I'd only ever seen in pictures. I let my eyes close, just for a moment. I slept, dreamless.

I woke in the morning. I looked up again, the sky blue like a paradise of its own. I pushed myself up. I was still in my old clothes. I would need to change at some point, but as I stood, I wasn't in the mood to. All the sand fell cleanly from my hair and clothes, never sticking as I took hesitant steps. I walked down the shore in the wet that the waves left untouched and then rushed back over. I took my shoes off, carrying them as I walked barefoot.

I was aware that something crucial was missing from me, I felt the hole as I looked over my shoulder, sure something should have been there, but I didn't remember what. I chuckled as the waves ran over my toes, then stoped as I saw a house. It was perfect, from the grey wooden shingles to the sweeping stairs that led to the front door. It was one of those houses with a garage underneath, and a deck that looks out over, stairs descending to allow people coming home to enter. I felt a pull to the house, walking up to it.

It had a mailbox. Looking back, I have no idea why there was a mailbox, but as I looked at it, my heart swelled with joy as the post simply read, "To Skylar."

This was my house. I laughed in delight. This was my house. I ran inside, smiling as it was so unbelievably clean. The roof was steeped white with the beachy rafters running through it, the furniture all various shades of blue. I loved it.

I wandered, wonderstruck, through the house, amazed at how perfectly everything fit me. I descended the stairs the basement, almost crying with joy as books of every sort lined the walls, and a reading nook to beat everything else. It was simple, but it was exactly what I wanted.

I looked out the window, moving to the bedroom. A closet had all the beachy clothes I'd always wanted to wear. I threw on soft pajamas, got a tub of ice cream, and crawled into bed. Something was missing. And I couldn't remember what.

What was this place? It suddenly occurred to me that I didn't know where I was. I knew I should have felt panicked, but I wasn't. I felt perfectly calm. I slid open a drawer on the nightstand that stood there and pulled out a white envelope.

Dear Skylar Lily Flemings:

                           It is our greatest regret to inform you that you are deceased. We trust you'll enjoy this setting that was designed specifically for your preferences. If you should have any complaints, please draft it on a sheet of paper (you will find some in the library) and put it where you found this letter.

                           Experience has led us to believe that memories of life have a negative effect on the experience this place is meant to provide. We don't like to disclose any more information than necessary, but we wish to tell you that you have lived a good enough life to make it to where you are now. This is not an achievement to be taken lightly.

                           There are often requests to know how death was met, especially from younger people. I do not think it will be of much consequence to give you some information about this topic.

                           On the 25th of April, you passed away in a fire at your school. You were given the opportunity to escape but chose to stay behind to save a girl who was injured and could not make it out on her own. Alone, you helped her, eventually getting her out of a lower story window where she survived. The lack of oxygen killed you painlessly, and so you came to be here.