She came into my office the way trouble always does in this town — quiet, glowing at the edges, carrying the kind of heat a man should walk away from but never does.
People like to say if you get too close to the flame, you’re sure to get burned. They say it like it’s advice. In my line of work, it’s more of a prophecy.
She asked for help. They always do. A missing ledger, a man with a grudge, a shadow that wouldn’t stop following her. I told myself I could handle it, keep a professional distance, stay cool.
But she wasn’t just a case. She was combustion.
By the time I realized it, the city was already glowing with the kind of fire you can’t put out. A fire that starts in the chest and works its way inward, burning slow, burning everything in its path.
A Joshua tree grips the horizon like a prophet clawing at a silent sky. Sunset here is not gentle. It’s a burn, a warning, gold bleeding into dry earth.
The desert stretches, thirsty, roots groping deeper for water that may never return. It remembers when seasons used to mean something. When wind held coolness, when dusk was more than a performance of heat.
Ice
The ice is retreating — not in anger, not in protest, just quietly slipping away while the sky watches in indifference. Its blue light fractures on the melting shards, and no one listens to the glaciers’ cries as they rapidly recede.
Fire and ice. Desert and sea. Far apart but fused by the same breathless truth. Both are telling us we are not immune. We have lit too many fires, turned away from too many floods.
Now, the extremes are speaking for themselves. In silence, in storms, in flames. In devastation and in death.
In the absence of what once was.
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See prompt. Joshua tree photo credit: Y S @ Unsplash. Iceberg photo credit: Colin Watts @ Unsplash.
Detective Fred Morrisey leaned across the metal table, his fingers drumming slowly like a ticking clock. “I’m going to make you sing like a canary before this day is over.”
Seated opposite Morrisey was a wiry man named Trent Marlowe. Marlowe stared back at his interrogator with a confident smirk “Give it your best shot, Detective.”
“You were seen leaving the warehouse at 2:14 in the morning,” Morrisey said, voice flat, cold. “Two minutes before it went up in flames. Want to explain that timing?”
“I like walks,” Trent said, shrugging. “City’s peaceful at night.”
Morrisey slid a photo across the table showing the charred remains of a human body, a burned ledger, and the unmistakable heel of a boot. “Size eleven. Same tread as yours.”
Trent’s smirk faltered slightly.
“I’ve got a dead security guard and a kid in the hospital with third-degree burns, Trent. I’m not here for your games,” Morrisey growled, leaning closer. “You lit that fire. Tell me why.”
Trent’s jaw clenched. Silence stretched.
Then, barely above a whisper, he muttered, “It wasn’t supposed to go that far. I was told the place was empty. No one was supposed to get hurt. Just a scare. Just, you know, for the insurance.”
Morrisey sat back down, folding his arms. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said all night.”
When Morrissey left the interview room, his precinct captain stopped him. “Good going, Fred, you made that fool sing like a canary.”
“That’s what I do, boss. I take these perps and make ‘em sing like choir boys.”
“Great, Fred,” the captain said. “Now go back in there and have him sing you the name of the guy who paid him to torch the place.”
The villagers of the small island nation called it “The Heart’s Fire,” believing it pulsed with the planet’s soul. For the first time in the lives of most of the islanders, the volcano erupted, and lava spilled in glowing ribbons down the ridges of the mountain.
Sixteen year old Lani stood barefoot at the foot of the mountain listening, interpreting the will of the gods, who this night spoke in roars and smoke. They were warning of change.
Lani saw oceans rise, mountains fall, and the planet burning. But it would someday rise again, fresh and new, from the ashes.
(100 words)
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo credit: Ken Arnopole (friend of Ted Strutz).
“It’s my fault, Danny,” Harriet said. “I was so angry with Tom. I know he was devastated after Tuesday’s election, but since then he was just sitting on the couch in the living room staring at the TV, which wasn’t even on. He would get up every now and then to go to the bathroom and to get a beer and to make himself a sandwich. But he hadn’t uttered a word to me since almost midnight on Tuesday night. He hasn’t even been sleeping in our bed. It was like I was living with a ghost.”
“This wasn’t your fault, Harriet,” Danny, Tom’s older brother said, giving Harriet a brotherly hug. “How could you have known that he would fall asleep without putting out the candle?”
“I couldn’t have know but I was so angry with him that I left last night and went to stay at my sister’s place,” Harriet said, tears running down her cheeks. “If had been at home, this wouldn’t have happened and Tom would still be alive.
“You don’t know that, Harriet,” Danny said. “You don’t know what time the fire started and if you had been here and had been sleeping, you, too, might have perished in the fire.” Danny hugged Harriet again, but this time it was anything but brotherly. When he moved in to kiss his sister-in-law on the lips, she pushed him away.
“Will it always be this hard?” Harriet asked rhetorically.
This post is in respone to a prompt from Aooga at The New Unofficial Online Writer’s Guild. Aooga’s prompt is called OLWG and he posts two or three prompts from his vast collection of writing prompts weekly. Our task is to choose one of them, choose all of them, or choose none of them and incorporate them into a story or poem. This week, his three prompts are:
For this week’s Thursday Inspiration prompt, Jim Adams has asked us to respond to this challenge by either using the prompt word “Fire,” or by going with the image above, or anything else that we think fits.
What came to mind when I saw the image Jim used, which I assume was an AI-generated image, in conjunction with the word “fire,” was the song “Burnin’ For You” from the American hard rock band Blue Öyster Cult.
I always thought the song was simply about a guy burning with desire for a girl, but it’s actually much deeper than that. The lyrics explore themes of existential struggle and the passage of time. The song reflects a sense of urgency and the inevitability of time running out, as suggested by lines like “Time ain’t on my side” and “Burn out the day, burn out the night.” The phrase “living for giving the devil his due” implies a Faustian bargain or a life lived with reckless abandon, possibly referencing the sacrifices made for a rock and roll lifestyle. The repeated “burning” suggests both passion and self-destruction. I guess until writing this post, I never listened that carefully to the lyrics.
Anyway, “Burnin’ for You” was released as the lead single from the band’s eighth studio album, Fire of Unknown Origin, released in June 1981. The song was co-written by guitarist Donald “Buck Dharma” Roeser and rock critic songwriter Richard Meltzer, who wrote lyrics for several of the band’s songs. Roeser sang lead vocals on the song in lieu of Blue Öyster Cult’s usual lead vocalist Eric Bloom. The song was the band’s last Top 40 hit, reaching number 1 hit on Billboard’s Mainstream Rock chart.
Blue Öyster Cult was one of the first heavy metal bands. They issued their first album in 1972 and grew a modest following before scoring a hit with “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” (also written by Buck Dharma) from their 1976 album Agents of Fortune, which hit number 12 and became embedded on rock playlists.
Blue Öyster Cult was one of the few American rock bands that was making videos when MTV launched in 1981. The single was released in July that year, and when MTV went on the air on August 1, they were happy to put it in rotation since they wanted to push a rock format but had little to choose from.
Home in the valley Home in the city Home isn't pretty Ain't no home for me
Home in the darkness Home on the highway Home isn't my way Home will never be
Burn out the day Burn out the night I can't see no reason to put up a fight I'm living for giving the devil his due
And I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you
Time is the essence Time is the season Time ain't no reason Got no time to slow
Time everlasting Time to play b-sides Time ain't on my side Time I'll never know
Burn out the day Burn out the night I'm not the one to tell you what's wrong or what's right I've seen suns that were freezing and lives that were through
Well I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you
Burn out the day Burn out the night I can't see no reason to put up a fight I'm living for giving the devil his due
And I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you
I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you
For this week’s Song Lyric Sunday, Jim Adams has asked us to find a song that includes in the lyrics “hot,” “burning,” “fire,” or “blazing, ” suggested yet again by Nancy aka The Sicilian Storyteller. The song I’m going with this week is “Summer in the City” by the Lovin’ Spoonful.
“Summer in the City” was written by John Sebastian, Mark Sebastian, and Steve Boone and was recorded by the American folk-rock band the Lovin’ Spoonful and was released as a non-album single in July 1966. It was included on the album Hums of the Lovin’ Spoonful later that year. The single was the Lovin’ Spoonful’s fifth to break the top ten in the U.S. and their only record to reach number 1. It was a departure from the band’s lighter sound, and it featured a harder rock style.
“Summer in the City” contrasts what it’s like to live in a large city during the day and during the night. According to the song, it’s difficult to walk around a crowded and hot city during the day, but it’s great at night because you have plenty of opportunities to chase women. This particular city is New York, where the band formed.
John Sebastian, the group’s principal song writer said that song came from an idea his brother Mark had. Mark, at 14, had composed and informally taped the song, which he titled “It’s a Different World.” Mark’s recording featured a bossa nova-like sound and rudimentary lyrics and was written in the style of soul singer Sam Cook. John expanded on Mark’s original composition, reworking the melody and replacing Mark’s laconic verses with more vital, upbeat ones.
The band was rather particular about the traffic sounds. Instead of just using what was available on the sound effects records in the studio, they found an old-school radio engineer who used to create the soundscapes for shows, so if a guy was riding a horse, you’d hear the hooves hitting the ground and the wind whistling by. This guy, whom John Sebastian referred to as a “hilarious old Jewish soundman,” came in with a huge library of street sounds, which the band went through for hours. They wanted the scene to build, so it starts softly (the horn at the beginning comes from a Volkswagen Beetle), and grows to a gridlock nightmare. To close the scene, they used a pneumatic hammer pounding away at the pavement.
Here are the lyrics to “Summer in the City.”
Hot town, summer in the city Back of my neck gettin' dirty and gritty Been down, isn't it a pity? Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city All around, people lookin' half dead Walkin' on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head
But at night, it's a different world Go out and find a girl Come on, come on, and dance all night Despite the heat, it'll be alright And babe, don't you know it's a pity The days can't be like the nights In the summer in the city In the summer in the city
Cool town, evening in the city Dressed so fine and lookin' so pretty Cool cat lookin' for a kitty Gonna look in every corner of the city 'Til I'm wheezing like a bus stop Runnin' upstairs, gonna meet you on the rooftop
But at night, it's a different world Go out and find a girl Come on, come on, and dance all night Despite the heat, it'll be alright And babe, don't you know it's a pity The days can't be like the nights In the summer in the city In the summer in the city
Hot town, summer in the city Back of my neck gettin' dirty and gritty Been down, isn't it a pity? Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city All around, people lookin' half dead Walkin' on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head
But at night, it's a different world Go out and find a girl Come on, come on, and dance all night Despite the heat, it'll be alright And babe, don't you know it's a pity The days can't be like the nights In the summer in the city In the summer in the city
For this week’s Thursday Inspiration prompt, Jim Adams has instructed us to respond to this challenge by either using the prompt word fire, or going with the above picture, or by means of anything else that we think fits.
Fire? Guitar? To me that adds up to only one thing. “Light My Fire” from the Doors.
Most of “Light My Fire” was written by Doors guitarist Robby Krieger, who wanted to write about one of the elements: fire, air, earth, and water.
Krieger came up with the melody and wrote most of the lyrics, which are about leaving inhibitions behind in flames of passion. Some thought, with the line, “Girl, we couldn’t get much higher,” that it was about smoking marijuana. The producers of The Ed Sullivan Show asked the band to change that line for their appearance in 1967. Morrison said he would, but sang it anyway. Afterwards, he told Sullivan that he was nervous and simply forgot to change the line. This didn’t fly, and the Doors were never invited back.
At first, the song had a folk flavor, but it ignited when Jim Morrison wrote the second verse (“our love become a funeral pyre…”) and Ray Manzarek came up with the famous organ intro. Drummer John Densmore also contributed, coming up with the rhythm. Like all Doors songs of this era, the band shared composer credits.
On the album, which was released in January 1967, the song runs 6:50. “Light My Fire” was deemed too long for airplay, but radio stations (especially in Los Angeles) got requests for the song from listeners who heard it off the album. Their label, Elektra Records decided to release a shorter version so they had producer Paul Rothchild do an edit. By chopping out the guitar solos, he whittled it down to 2:52. This version was released as a single in April, and the song took off, giving the Doors their first big hit.
To many fans, the single edit was an abomination, and many DJs played the album version once the song took off.
The song topped the Hot 100 for the first three weeks of July 1967. It sold over one million copies and was the first number 1 hit for their record label, Elektra.
This became the Doors’ signature song. Before it was released, the Doors were an underground band popular in the Los Angeles area, but “Light My Fire” got the attention of a mass audience.
Here are the lyrics to “Light My Fire.”
You know that it would be untrue You know that I would be a liar If I was to say to you Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on, baby, light my fire Come on, baby, light my fire Try to set the night on fire
The time to hesitate is through No time to wallow in the mire Try now we can only lose And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on, baby, light my fire Come on, baby, light my fire Try to set the night on fire, yeah
The time to hesitate is through No time to wallow in the mire Try now we can only lose And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on, baby, light my fire Come on, baby, light my fire Try to set the night on fire, yeah
You know that it would be untrue You know that I would be a liar If I was to say to you Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on, baby, light my fire Come on, baby, light my fire Try to set the night on fire Try to set the night on fire Try to set the night on fire Try to set the night on fire
Malcolm picked up the newspaper and started reading the headlines. As usual, all that jumped out at him was bad. War overseas, Gun violence at home, severe weather due to climate change, homelessness, income disparity, racial unrest.
Malcolm’s eyes welled up. What was happening to his country, to his world? Suddenly the newspaper burst into flames. “Hey, I didn’t start the fire,” Malcolm said, as he dropped the burning paper to the ground.
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See prompt. Photo credit: The Ian @ Unsplash.
The idea behind Who Won the Week is to give you the opportunity to select who (or what) you think “won” this past week. Your selection can be anyone or anything — politicians, celebrities, athletes, authors, bloggers, your friends or family members, books, movies, TV shows, businesses, organizations, whatever.
If you want to participate, write your own post designating who you think won the week and why you think they deserve your nod. Then link back to this post and tag you post with FWWTW.
This week, the Who Won the Week winner is Brandon Dahl, a 2-year-old toddler, who walked into the bedroom of his sleeping parents, Nathan and Kayla Dahl, with a warning. Brandon tugged on his mother’s foot and utter two of the few words he’d learned. “Mama, hot. Mama, hot.”
Brandon’s mother opened her eyes, turned around, and saw flames in the doorway. None of the home’s smoke detectors went off, and the parents, who were recovering from COVID-19, hadn’t smelled the smoke. Volunteer firefighters got Brandon and his four siblings to safety before the house was completely consumed by the fire.
The toddler is being credited by his family with saving their lives from a fire that destroyed the family’s home. Little Brandon doesn’t quite understand what he did, his mother said, but he enjoys the attention he gets when strangers recognize him and say, “You’re a hero!”
So congratulations Brandon. You won the week this week.
What about you? Who (or what) do you think won the week?
Facts, Fictions & Fantasies 