unfinished snippets

I'm not feeling very festive and I think this is why

It still smells like it always does this time of year. Like cinnamon and chimneys. And I should be fine. I should be reassured, because after all, it's the most wonderful time of the year, right? I should be having a jolly 'ol grand time with my family sitting around our furnace and sipping hot chocolate.

But I can't. There's something unsettling about the smell and the feeling outside. It's too much like how it was two months ago when my whole world nearly burned down. Too similar for me to have a jolly 'ol grand time.

Instead of shivering with a smile when I smell the cinnamon and chimney, I slam the door shut and hope and pray that that stench is not what I think it is. I start hyperventilating, my hands shaking as I take out my phone to check the news.

I am afraid.

I am afraid that I will have to leave my house again, leave my safe place, just to cower in fear for the next twenty four hours, wondering if there will be any remnants of my life to go back to. I am afraid of the red glow; in my dreams it chases me through the forest, hunting me down.

Most of all, I am afraid of the loss. I am afraid that this time my best friend won't wake up in time. I am afraid that when I call my sister, at an overnight shift, she won't answer. I am afraid that I will be all alone, with no other friends left but the flames.