Fire

The smoke billowed from underneath the door like the ocean waves at high tide. I fell to the ground with gaseous cinder filling my lungs. I saw the flames ascend the wall like a lightning bolt moving in reverse. I rolled over to my back and felt like I was looking up from the wrong side of hell. Molten pieces of stucco dripped down in a torturous, almost, erotic way. Blue and red lights cascaded though an opening where curtains once hung. An axe pierced the door in a "Here's Johnny" way. I white cloud poured through the opening banishing the flames back and choking my lungs worse than the black death that maligned me before. The fire fighters were wearing canister gas masks and heavy-laden jackets that the color was undistinguishable against the glow of the flames. They surrounded the room putting in twelve rounds against the game fire. One them came over and picked me up from the crumpled heap that I had become. His grasp around my arm tightened as we stumbled down the tunnel of flames that once was my hallway. I looked back to see the other fire fighters leap through a vacant window as brimstone showered down blacking out the view of my bedroom. We burst through the front door to an assembly of faceless neighbors and public servants. The whirring sirens in combination with the pulsing lights pushed me beyond my limit. My vision blurred like someone put petroleum jelly over the lens of my life. I woke to a high-pitched metronome and sterile room. It felt like I had been sitting in the Caribbean sun for days. I was told that I was luck to be alive. The fire started as a result of faulty wiring. I haven't been the same since.