I stare mesmerized at the tv. Orange flames erupt from everything. Skeletons of houses blaze and tumble into ashes. All those homes. All those people.

I wrack my brain, trying to think of where all my friends live. Who might need help. Who might need a place to stay. Meanwhile, the days stay hot. Golden light filters through the clouds. Like it’s late afternoon all the time. Like some holy sign will be delivered from heaven, any second.

What would you take if you just had a minute? How about five minutes? An hour? I load up imaginary computers, manuscripts, stuffed animals, photographs into my imaginary truck as I go through the fantasy again and again. Switching love letters for a picture album this time. Leaving my favorite necklace that time.

Over and over again. Until it’s a mantra. Until it’s a story.

As a story, I can understand it. Wrap my head around it. What would this character save? Who started it? Did they feel guilty? Happy? Terrorized? I create a parallel world inside my head, but in this one, I have control. I can let everyone escape unharmed. I know the awful mistake that started it all. I can douse the flames when I need to.

But it is only the illusion of control. So I go over the scenario again. The dogs, my laptop, medicine… What would you bring?

*Pictures from the Los Angeles Times*

Posted in Not-so-nifty happenings, Writing

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