Mum told me not to look back at the fire.
I saw it for a moment. The smoke curling under the eaves of the house. I saw the shimmer of heat warp the moon. The glass flux of reality under the flames. Emerald green. Hungry for change.
The nails chattered like teeth under the searing heat. A great moan from somewhere deep in the house. From its new throat.
It infected that place. The fire mutated it. And a sliver of it was caught in my eye.
Paddy Dobson
14th February 2022