The Fire Circle

My short story entry for this week....

The Fire Circle

I stand at the edge of the field. I feel the wind push, pull, and claw at me and I pull the coat tighter around me. My insides churn with anxiety and fear. The bruise on my face is a disgusting green color, but the swelling has gone away. The blisters on my hands ache as I clench my fists in my pocket and move forward. I hear the voices coming from the clearing.

Ten or so people have already arrived and they are arranging things around the large, stone-ringed pit we use for these bonfires. As I reach the circle or people I am met with nods, a few half-hearted smiles, and a hug from Jenni. Nobody asks me about Colton. Nobody wants to know about him. The wind billows and blows and I watch as Henry drenches the pile of brush and logs with gasoline.

"Good." I think. "Make this mother fucker burn."

Coolers are placed around the circle, beers are opened. If anyone notices the excess dirt, mud, and mess surrounding the pit, they keep it to themselves. And I am happy of this. With a FWOOSH, the fire is lit and the branches blaze bright in the failing light. I am warmed by the sudden blossom of heat that burns in the circle. This fire is the avenging fire. This fire is the cleansing fire.