Contributor: Krystina Balogh

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I sit and watch the embers float by
On a warm summer breeze, tinged
With the pungent, acrid, scent of smoke, freshly cut grass,
Charred hot dogs, and wet swimsuits.
A leaf rimmed with fire catches
My eye. It mesmerizes me. I follow its meandering path
As an updraft lazily lifts it
To the sky. Yellow and orange dance seductively,
Flickering and leaping (clumsy, graceless)
Across its dried face. Peals of
Laughter ripple through the air
Mingling with excited shrieks and whoops,
Drowning out the snap, crackle, and roar
Of the raging fire
Before me. A loud popping snap
Brings me back to
My current adventure.
I pick up a stick and
Strip off the soft, papery, bark.
Impaling a marshmallow (Stupid, silly girl!)
On its point, I walk towards
The clubhouse. The chain
Looped through the
Door’s handles glimmers in the firelight.
A twig snaps under my
Foot alerting them to my presence outside.
They bang on the door
Making the chain rattle. They move from
Frantic begging to pleading to
Threatening to crying to silence.
A siren wails in the
Distance as I extend my marshmallow
Laden stick towards the (giggling, pointing)
Hungry, eager, flames devouring the clubhouse.
They should not have laughed at me.


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Krystina Balogh is a freelance writer that haunts the mid-Atlantic region of the USA. She dabbles in the horror, science fiction, and fantasy genres and is the author of numerous short stories. When she is not busy writing, she indulges her love for the supernatural and video games.