I'm Not Sure What I'm Doing

Terry-fying

My house is on fire and I swear it isn't my fault.

I did nothing, I promise. I was just standing in my kitchen, considering making an omelet when I smelled smoke. Now I'm standing in my front yard watching the flaming spectacle. I'm in too much shock to do anything else. The blaring sound of sirens wavers on the edge of my awareness, and only one thought is going through my head:

I didn't get my omelet.

I'm shocked out of my trance when teams of firefighters rush into the house to combat the flames. I realize that if they have gotten here.... she must be here too. I turn around right as she slams into me, wrapping me in a tight embrace.

"I came as soon as I heard, is everyone okay?" she yells into my ear.

"No one else was home," I reply loudly, "Don't worry."

She stares up at me with frighteningly eager eyes. Why on earth would she look like that?

"Terry, what is going-"

"Did you start the fire?" she asks, nearly screeching. The excitement in her eyes grows as she awaits an answer.

I stare at her, squinting. I must not have heard her right over the sound of the flames. Did she ask.. if I started the fire? No, that isn't it. It couldn't be.

But my doubts are confirmed when I hear her shriek the question again.

I pause, staring her down.

"Terry, why would you ask that?"

"Well, the Almighty She says-" before she can finish her sentence, she clamps a hand over her mouth. It's fear in her eyes now.

"Who's that?" I ask.

"Nothing. It's nothing. See you at school tomorrowbyeCasey!" she finishes her sentence with desperation. She backs away slowly before running to her car. I watch as she floors the gas and drive away like her life depends on it. I sigh with resigned confusion and turn around to look back at the flames. Suddenly, I feel a strange compulsion to.... walk towards the fire. The more that I try to dislodge the idea from my head, the more it takes root.

That is stupid. That is very stupid.

But why not? A voice seems to ask in my head.

'Cause you'll go up like dry kindling and gasoline during the wildfire season!

How do you know? The voice nags.

I'm not stupid, that's how!

But it's no use. I take my first step towards the flames. Then another. Then another. I grow suspiciously calm, like something else is going to happen other than ME BURNING TO DEATH. But that annoying voice inside is far stronger than my own will. The looming mass of my burning house grows closer and closer. Just as I think I'm going to die, the air in front of me grows shimmery, like silk. The house disappears and now I'm in the middle of what is most definitely a throne room.

The walls glitter with elaborate golden tapestries . In fact, everything in golden. The walls, the ceiling, the braziers floating in midair, and the imposing figure who lounges in a chair at the end of the throne room.