Everything is burning. A smile creeps up one side of my face. The amber flames lick up the bark of trees before exploding at the top like Autumn magnified, leaves showering into dust and ash. Soon this whole island will be the same. Gone. Obliterated. And rightly so.

   I turn so the wind blows my hair behind me and looking out at everything I’ve known from the last month fade to blackened dust, I feel on fire. Like I’ve done what I needed to do. And I’m free. The smoke rises further into the air, whiffs of death. I don’t think about the people dying below in their own creation. It’s their fault he’s dead and Karma is a bitch. 

   Something catches my eye among the plumes of fire and smoke. A charcoaled $50 note drifting towards the black cloud above me. I reach out to snatch it and almost drop it when the glowing embers on the side touch my fingers. That’s the last of it, I think. The last of the million dollars. And then I laugh. I don’t recognise it. A twisted out of breath cackle . This half-burned bill is what people have died for. Nothing. I suppose I’ve won then. I’ve won this game, my life and scars to prove it. But I’ve lost everything else. Somehow, having seen what I’ve seen, felt what I’ve felt and done what I’ve done, I don’t feel human anymore. I’m not familiar with the memories of this month as if it hasn’t really been me, just some kind of devil that’s living in my skin. I felt possessed. I still do. In those burning flames, a piece of me burned. The love of my life died there and so did my love for everything else. 

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

   I scream to the fire. It screams back with hissing and crackling. 

   “I’m not dead yet,” I shout but I wonder how I’ll ever be alive again. I sit back down on the stone, too cold to be surrounded by inferno. Stroking the scales carved into the rock. Sitting atop this statue like a crown of snakes.