Burning Your Rocks

The fire was beginning to crawl over the horizon and with her face pressed against the window Remy watched as her neighbors scurried in and out of their homes trying to save as many things as possible.

Across the street the Flores’ had managed to pack virtually their entire house into their two door Volkswagen Bug; but Remy figured that mustn’t have been too difficult for them to do seeing as how they live as traditional Chinese do, so they had no tables or chairs to try and bring with them unlike the rest of the neighborhood had done. However, Remy knew that they had just had a baby which she didn’t see be packed into the car along with everything else of theirs’, and it was after having squealed out of the driveway and sped down the street that they realized they had forgotten another very important thing. They came rushing back and Remy watched as Mrs. Flores flew out of the car, run inside and come frantically rushing back out with a baby cuddled to her chest to see that a good portion of her stuff had fallen out of the car onto the ground. Mrs. Flores did the whole tantrum dance and pulling her hair gig until she finally settled with the fact that she didn’t have anymore time to worry about her possessions.

Remy found the whole ordeal funny and underneath her tears she managed a smile and a small giggle - with the glow of the fire increasing Remy mused over the fact that here at the end of everything people still cling to their materialistic nature and would carelessly give up those who need them for the petty things that they think that they need. She was glad some sort of paternal nature out - weighed every other nature of their’s this time (the Flores’ were always a bit nutty) and she genuinely hoped the best for them.

By now the neighborhood was still. Nothing was stirring but the clouds of smoke gracefully floating through the streets and in between the houses, and had she been ignorant of her impending doom Remy would have found the scene beautiful. The glow of red illuminating the brown and muggy fog reminded her of the times her mother would set fire to nearly everything she attempted to cook. The smoke would mushroom up and envelope her mother’s fiery red hair and her mother would scream and shout and pull her hair - much like Mrs. Flores did just now; then she would leave, leaving a fire blazing on the stove behind her. Every time Remy would have to extinguish the flames and punish herself for ever becoming hungry because every time her stomach growled her mother left. One day, she never came back- Remy figured that she just must have gotten tired of burning. Remy was happy that her mother wasn’t here now, she laughed over the thought that her mother would have probably locked her out on the porch to burn alone - out of spite.

Remy stood against the window and continued to watch until the smoke thickened and blocked any a clear view of her neighborhood. She wiped the tears from her face and pulled her matted red hair behind her ears then sullenly closed the drapes and turned around towards the kitchen. In the back room Remy could hear her father mumbling about something, and at something she was so used to she became depressed over at this time - for the poor man has no idea what’s coming.

A few years ago, when Remy was only twelve, her father was diagnosed with Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva - or Stone Man Syndrome. It was the same year that her mother had left, so Remy had spent the last three years alone, watching as her father was plagued with pain and hysteria as his muscles slowly turned to bone - he was soon sentenced to his bed for the rest of his life. Remy became the primary care taker of her immobile father but could really do nothing other than wallow in the face of a greater unseen force overtaking the life of a man whom she loved dearly. Her father didn’t have mind much to care for long, his brain soon turned to rock and he entered into a near vegetative state - sinking into his mattress and mumbling non-sense.

Her father had begun to laugh hysterically and she knew she hadn’t anymore time to waste - she needed to put a little more hurry into her giddy-up. She walked over to the fridge and took one last look at the family photos her mother had put there when Remy was still only a small child. There’s a picture of Remy’s first birthday party; she had cake covering her entire head with her parents embracing each other in the background. Her dad stood so much taller over her mom - with his well built structure and rigid bones, Remy thought about how handsome he was before this disease ransomed his body. Another photo was from a vacation they took to Mount Rushmore; all three were huddled together with Remy being held in the middle by both her parents who were wearing relaxed and genuine smiles. They were picturesque of happy moments - Remy grinned and said “It was good once, I guess that’ll have to be good enough.”

She opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of red wine and the solution of potassium chloride; then made a hurried skip into her father’s bedroom. The drapes were closed and the air was thick - the smoke was beginning to seep into the house. She could barely breathe and every breath scratched the back of her throat - burnt her lungs and produced paroxysms of bloody coughs. Remy opened the bottle of wine and took three big gulps before making her way to her father’s bed-side. He was swimming in sweat and his lips were quivering but producing no sound - Remy bent over him and pulled the sweaty hair out of his eyes then stood to open the drapes hanging over his head.

The flames were huge now; just around the corner, and Remy could see as they violently whipped back and forth and both grow and shrink in size and intensity. The atmosphere was black and the fire was now the only source of light that shown through the window and colored the room a dark maroon. The glow scintillated over the lingering smoke in the air and produced visions of ghouls in water - at the sight Remy went from being depressed about her current reality to being terribly afraid. She looked down to her father whose eyes were bouncing back and forth, much like the flames outside, as if he too were afraid.

Remy rummaged through the bed stand and found a package of syringes and nervously fumbled to prepare a lethal dosage of potassium chloride. When she first heard news of the fire she knew there was no possibility of getting her father out of this house - with all of the machines he’s hooked up to; she would have needed the help of an ambulance. Sadly, she believed that they would have more important priorities, and so she decided to stay behind here at home with her father and let the fire devour them. Remy was only worried about her father dying in pain and so she decided to take things into her own hands; and when she had finished preparing the needle she sat down on the bed beside her father.

She took hold of her father’s stiff sweaty arm and said “I’m sorry this is all that I’ve done to you.” to her amazement, as she had stuck the needle into his vein his arm jumped and his hand took hold of her own arm. Remy nearly fell back in terror; but heard a faint whisper and noticed that her dad was lifting his head. The grip on her arm tightened, and with what seemed to be all the might that her father could muster up he weakly spoke and said “It was never your fault.” It was the first time in years that Remy had heard her father speak anything coherent and as well be able to move! Remy broke down into to tears but for the first time in a very long time she released tears of joy; at this moment she felt happy and entirely relieved that her at the end of their lives’ her father could speak those words - and now she felt that she could let go and that it’d be okay.

She injected the chloride then pulled herself into the bed and cuddled next to her father - aside from the roar of the fire she listened as the beating of his heart began to race and then quickly slow until the beating completely ceased. She pulled her head under his arm, and closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself for her own agonizing demise. As she was lying nearly entirely underneath her dad she heard a deep rumble and felt his body shift. She lifted her head to see that her fathers skin was turning black; now his body truly did appear to be stone, but she thought that it was happening to quickly for this anomaly to be caused by any caustic smoke.

Remy laid her hand on his chest over his heart, and as she felt for any sign of life she heard, over the flaming roar, a loud crack - as if someone had hammered a train nail into a boulder. Her hand recoiled from his chest and where it had been was an indented handprint. From the center of the imprint thick cracks began to travel outward, spiraling all over his body. She perched herself up upon her knees and could see that the flames were directly outside the window now and she saw as the fire was crawling under the door behind her.

With all her might she lifted her fathers stiff and heavy body and clenched him tightly against her chest. The smoke was too thick now that she was unable to cry like her weary tired body had wanted to do; and the fire was now crawling on every wall in the cubed room, slowly enveloping them - she hugged her dead dad ever so tightly. Deep within her father she could feel a rumble nearly as powerful as an earthquake, and as she squeezed him his body thickened - the whole appeared to take a deep breath as it inflated in size, then crumbled - combusted into ash and fell away between her fingers.

Kneeling in her fathers ashes - the flames danced around Remy, tickling beneath her fiery red hair. Through the smoke and the grip of the fire she watched as each chunk of hair fell to the floor from the head of a woman that she was certain she used to know.