• I stood silently, partially hidden by an oak tree, as I watched the little girl sit down on the seat of a swing, in a lonely playground, in an empty school, on an abandoned property, in Early November.
    The cold wind whipped my long jacket tight against my body, and I felt bad for the girl whose faded red sweater was unraveling itself bit by bit. She grabbed a rusty chain in each pale hand and swung her paper thin legs back and forth. Back and forth.
    Her long tangly hair blew in the crisp Winter wind and again I felt horrible.
    She suddenly clutched her stomach in what looked like pure agony. I swear that I could hear her stomach growl from all the way back where I was hiding. The girl hadn’t had anything to eat since she savored her last stale biscuit yesterday at dawn.
    I had been watching her from the shadows for at least a week now, and I could tell that, now more than ever, she needed me. She was practically crying out for everything I would provide for her. Food. Shelter. Clothes. Love.
    I stepped out from behind the tree, leaves crunching under my boots as I slowly made my way to the girl. As soon as she saw me though, recognition dawned on her face, and she jumped off the swing. She took an unsteady step back and I calmly stepped forward one step, so I wouldn’t frighten her. Another wobbly step back.
    I stood still, not wanting to frighten the girl. I stared at her, examining her face. The dirt covered cheeks. The wounds. The eyes that used to be so blue, so full of love, but that had now faded to a dull gray, no longer holding love, but hate, fright, and sadness.
    She suddenly turned and ran. She only made it a couple feet before she fell. Her frail body just couldn’t take it anymore. I could see her struggling to stand. To run away. To fight. I was longer walking. I was running now, full speed across the playground to where her body lay limp across the mulch.
    When I got to the girl’s body, she was already gone. Dead. What went wrong? I was only trying to help her.
    My whole world spun, and then shattered like a glass sculpture dropped onto a bed of spikes. Didn’t she know? Couldn’t she tell? I wasn’t trying to hurt her. Only to help her. I was her father. All I wanted to do was love her.
    I had watched her for so long to make sure she wasn’t somewhere better. Nicer. Safer. The time I had actually gotten up the courage to tell her the truth, that I survived the fire just like her, she had to go and die on me. What kind of a messed up was I living in?
    I cradled her head in my lap, and cried. “Dear God! Oh, dear God! Please not now. Not so young. She’s just a child!,” I shouted up towards the sky, tears streaming down my face.
    Taking out my pocketknife, I stabbed it through my chest, not thinking of any reason to live. My wife was dead. My only child was dead. Hell, I was supposed to be dead. The pain registered to my brain instantly, and I screamed out in agony.
    “Is this all you’ve got? This is all it takes to be with my family again? Fine!” I shrieked to no one in particular. I lay my head down on the mulch, closed my eyes, preparing to die.
    It was slow. It was painful, but I didn’t care.
    A bright light opened up in front of me and I ran towards it, full speed ahead.
    After passing through the light, the scene changed. No more light.
    Just fire.