Fire

by Shawnong

The flames danced to an insidious choreography, deliberately devised to prevent its sole audience from escaping.

People die from fires in 2 ways:

1. They get burned by the flames.

2. They lose in the battle for oxygen(not scientifically accurate).

My mind searched for a way out desperately, bombarding into walls at every turn it takes. Trapped. The immensity of the heat blurred my vision. My eyes teared to wash out the foreign dust particles. I felt my windpipe constrict slowly as it slowly dries up. Moisture, as life too, was being sucked out of my body.

I felt pathetic. The flames were seemingly mocking at my distress, taunting me to find a solution when there is none.

A minute opening. I saw it. Not big enough for me to get through untouched by the fingers of the fire, but large enough to be worth an attempt. I planned my steps in my head before acting.

A moment of hesitation. To go or not? My thoughts concentrated on the fleeting invitation. It felt as if they materialised into some sort of guiding beam. Meandering through and out of the fire.

I made a choice. I went.

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