“Autumn”

“Autumn was the smell of fireplace smoke drifting through the suburban-night air, that homey, bundled-against-the-cold smell that was like no other, which resurrected species-old memories of encampments set up on similar windy and chilled nights, when all eyes stared at the nursling fire that meant food, warmth, and life itself. Every gaze fixated, as if entranced, on the fulgent, fulminating dance of contained flame. From the molten, white-hot core of the fire emerged visual echoes in poison yellow, edging into viridine green, then outward to dark peach, persimmon, and burnt umber. Fascination fell on all who watched the wraiths imprisoned and tortured in these fires, ever struggling, twisting, and leaping in pursuit of release. There were vast nebulae in the pangs of formation, delicate undersea ferns buffeted by the tides, satin ribbons looping and delicate, and atmospheres from strange and distant worlds. Flashes of blue would appear and sap would crackle and explode sending cinders toward the observers.”