Quote:
Fire Opal ( 8 ) : On a cold winter night, there’s nothing nicer than burning a nice log in the fire. Looking like any average piece of lumber, the neatly chopped log you selected has no clear indication that there’s something special about it–until the fire gets to it. A typical fire should be red and orange and yellow, and yet this one circles through all colors of the rainbow. It smells fragrant and pleasant, and there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it–it just burns in beautiful, vibrant colors. As the wood burns, opalescent cracks appear through it, casting a shimmering light enhanced by the flames. By the end of it, only rainbow embers remain, sparkling like dark opals, and even they eventually lose their color and crumble away.
There was, Angus thought as he carefully resettled himself on the couch to avoid waking Bindhi, something magical about a lit fire during the holidays. The twins were entertaining themselves on the floor, laying under the tree and drafting up childish plans to capture Santa on Christmas Eve. Their sleepy whispers blended with the crackling of the fire and the soft crackle and scratch of an actual record being played on an actual record player that he and Bindhi had found one day and decided jointly would be used. They’d been taking turns picking records to play. Last night, he’d selected Bing Crosby. Tonight, the kids had picked the Muppets and John Denver’s Christmas album. Bindhi and the kids and danced around to Christmas is Coming as they’d decorated the tree. Now, Bindi was curled up on the couch dozing.
All in all, he thought, it was rather cosy. He repositioned his wife slightly so that she could use his leg as a pillow and simply enjoyed the fire and the bottle of mead that a co-worker had given him.
As the fire crackled and popped, he watched the flames dancing and casting shadows. The warm, orange-y glow was pleasant and he was close to nodding off himself. All that saved him (and probably their house) was the fact that he would not leave two active children unsupervised around a damn fire. Even if they were on the cusp of falling asleep themselves.
“Ach,” he said softly, a chuckle in his voice as he listened to the twins, “give the poor fat man a fightin’ chance. Ye don’ want to end up on the naughty list, ye ken?”
A sharp, sizzling pop brought his attention back to the fire and he nearly shot out of his seat as the warm orange glow had faded into pinks, purples and blues. Within moments, only John Denver’s dulcet tones could be heard as the kids stopped their planning to watch the rainbow fire with solemn eyes. The smoke didn’t even smell smoky. Instead, the room just smelled like, well, Christmas. He couldn’t put his finger on anything precisely. It was just all a meld of the different lovely scents he’d associated with the holidays as a child.
Lost in the rainbow glow of the strange fire, Angus suddenly felt Aarne leaning against his shins while Anne had wormed her way up to snuggle into his side. Both children watched the fire, little noses twitching at the good smells it produced. Opalescent cracks appeared ad the wood burned, turning the fire into a sparkling, jeweled marvel. And as it began to die down, Anne turned to him and whispered, “Daddy, wake Mommy up so she can see!”
“Mommy’s watching,” came Bindhi’s sleep-slurred voice. “Enjoy the pretty colors, baby.”
Reaching down to stroke his wife’s hair, Angus chuckled. Well, at least now he wouldn’t feel guilty for not waking her up to see. Her soft breathing slowed and deepened, signaling that she’d fallen back into Dreamland. And soon enough, the kids followed, their breathing blending with hers and creating a peaceful harmoniousness.
Watching to the end, not wanting to disturb his sleeping family, Angus sat and enjoyed the shimmering rainbows cast upon the room. When the fire finally went out, he could see the ember and chunks of burned wood sparking in the fireplace, looking like black fire opals. He doubted they would last. None of the weird things that happened ever lasted long. But as far as weird went, he gave this one a one hundred out of ten.
By the time the last ember crumbled into plain old, black soot, the entire family was sleeping, cuddled together.
Word Count = 614
