The light from the fire reflected back at me from the pond. The water was as still as the dead and the light danced across the surface. I knew the fire was a risk, every crackle and pop of the wood sounded like thunder in the silence of the woods. And the light it breathed into the darkness would draw the attention of anyone near enough to see it. Or anything. But it had been weeks since I had seen any sign of people and the nights weren’t getting any warmer.

I would have been better off sleeping in the dirt.

I thought it was the light playing tricks on my eyes. The fire was throwing shadows against the trees and I thought I saw something passing through the trees. I strained to see anything. To hear anything. But all I could hear was the crackle of the fire. All I could see was the shadows in the night.

Soon the smoke started to whisper to me. It crept inside me, curling its tendrils around my heart, and knotting them in my stomach. It crept into my brain and filled every crevice. Until all I could hear was the whisper of smoke between my ears, compelling me look. Forcing me to listen.

I thought the danger was in the woods. I didn’t realize it was in the wood.

I was frozen in place, held captive and captivated. The smoke was alive. Empires rose and fell within the flames. Millions of the dead ascended with the ashes.

Blood erupted from my nose in a crimson downpour.

I watched in horror as the smoke and fire showed me my place in the fabric of destiny. I was a stitch in the unraveling blanket of reality, just waiting to be ripped out by the seamstress of time.

My lungs burned and my breath gurgled in my chest. I fell to the ground. I closed my eyes, but the fire still flashed behind my eyelids. There was no escape. I welcomed death’s cold embrace.