Flowers on Fire

There was a fire in the forest near the barn and I remember seeing the moonlight shine down upon the flames and I remember my mother screaming at me to get the water bucket to extinguish the flames but I did not.

My eyes remained transfixed upon the moon and when the clouds passed over it I averted my eyes so that I may not make the moon jealous.

My brother would slap me on the head and I would grab the water bucket and I went to the well that was near the entrance to the forest and I filled it up and carried it. The weight was heavy upon my small childlike arms and as I carried the wooden bucket to the forest I heard a whisper. The whisper laid itself upon my ears and exerted its weight upon my soul. 

Come unto me, the whisper floated. Come unto me.

I carried the bucket to the site of the burning and I looked at the monstrous flames. Their thousand tongues licked the trees and spread their disease and spread their love and lifted themselves up unto the sky. They wanted to be seen but I was instructed to stop them, and I did. 

The moon watched as I doused the flames, tossing the water in an exasperated sigh.

Come unto me.

I would return to gather more water from the well and made my trip back to the scene of the fire. A small bunch of forest flowers near the entrance had been lit from the fire. I watched them burn and I looked back to my mother and I looked at the moon and I looked back at the flowers. They sat their burning and I cried and as I cried the forest burned and as it burned the moon watched. 

Come unto me.

But when the fire reached the root, which lay buried in the Earth, the whisper stopped.

I looked at the moon.

The moon looked at me.

Author's Note

say what you will