The dance called shiver and shake

Takes over my cold, frail limbs

This old cabin creeks with the wind songs

But outside, there is only silence.

I am alone in Black Forest

Afraid of my own shadow

A glass of mother Russia

To keep me company.

I build myself a fire

The flames feel like a warm hug

I stare at the colors—

Orange, red, blue at the core.

The wood crackled

And that’s when I heard it.

What started as a whisper,

Repeating over and over:

“Last one to die, please turn out the light”

“Last one to die, please turn out the light”

A call to action

I leaned in, watching the flames move erratically.

The whisper grew louder

Until it was all I could hear.

The voice felt close and distant all at once.

“Last one to die, please turn out the light”