Ah Fire...

Ah fire…
I just set my house completely afire, perhaps just because I’m too villainous to watch it gloriously standing just under the pale moonlight of this tropical summer night. My family, three of them were still sleeping on their beds. Oh, they would not feel any pain. No hazardous flame would make them suffer due to the soft and tender dream from a hot lullaby. A family of rats which settled for years under the kitchen cupboard would accompany them to the sweet breeze of heaven. They would be awakened by the mesmerizing spears of enchanting angelic odor and surprised that they are already, nakedly and hopelessly, on the lap of Mr. Christ.

Ah fire…
My little Merlin turtle is still on its aquarium. Maybe he (or she?) is totally ripped by curiosity and fear. My little Merlin turtle in my flaming bedroom would be curious of the fire, of the flaming red and orange lingual flame which burns my cozy pink bedcover, which he or she has never seen before. However, because he or she is a coward little guy or girl, probably he or she would just hide his or her tiny green head into its weak tortoise shell and try to be blatantly unseen under the river pebbles in the aquarium floor. Don’t worry dear Merlin. You will be saved. Your aquarium water may be boiled and your flesh may be darker green… but you will be merely saved.

Ah fire…
Therefore this house would never grab me again. I would never hear again the motherly mock which my little white mother throws at her darker and uglier friends, saying that I was villainous and somehow forgetful. I will never see her throw fake laughing to her big-breasted women friend; proudly telling the stories that when the end of the year comes and I come home and give her a perfect straight A report card. Why has she to be proud of something she just doesn’t have? Why has she to be proud of something she does not help to achieve? Doesn’t she remember that she yelled at me, turning the TV volume higher, tell me that I am forgetful and hopeless, just when I am trying to learn something on my course? She is a villain. Thus I am villainous. Don’t complain, Ma. I am the heroine in your story of death. I put your inherited house on fire, a heavenly fragrant fire… I send you to heaven along with Pa and Brother, so that you three can build a perfect household without the smart-ass little me who is forgetful and villain.

Ah fire…
I hope you three have prayed your little rosary before sleeping, to easier your way to heaven. I hear voices of yours, I do… Please don’t complain.

(gisa-30-01-10)