“Fire fire burning higher, lit the flames to your desires.” A man, who by the look upon his face you can tell has been through a great deal, by the way he sits you can tell he has a tall sturdy physique to him, his brown eyes look empty and cold, and his blond wavy hair sits frozen with ice. You can tell where his hair is growing in on the bald spots from past battles he has served in. As he sits bundled up by the small fire trying to melt the ice from his eye lashes and around his thick chapped purple lips, he begins to echo that very chant over and over in his head. Listening and watching the sky light up all around him. The flames of pinks, blues, purples, and yellows start to bring on a new day, waking nature all around him. Stars fading away, going to sleep until the next night’s journey wakens them to shine. Seeing a rabbit nestle out of its hole, and three fuzzy snowballs following behind, they quickly dance away. Observing this, he wishes he was as free and peaceful as them. He slightly tilts his head up and begins to listen as the dog’s gain more ground between anything that blocks them from him.

It wasn’t even a mere month ago, when the wise old woman visited him in his dreams, saying that very chant to him. He thought it was an odd, misunderstood dream. Or maybe even his guilty conscience taking over, but now, he can tell it was neither his dream nor his conscience. It was more than that. It was a deeper connection, to himself then just a dream or his conscience. Thinking about this, and hearing the dogs loud death baring barking and howling, he begins to reflect about all that has happened in his life since he got to return home.

Six months, three weeks, and two days. That’s how long he has been back from war, from being a prisoner of war that is. He never thought he would get to see that day when he would get to return home from being captured, but finally his day came to escape those dark, cold, underground caves. He recollects it all. It was the smells and sounds that got him the most, the odors of rust, death, and mold. He and everyone else hearing shrills of agony and several fighting soldiers begging and pleading for their lives. Struggling to stay alive you can hear the whip crackling again and again and a sharp cry of a soldier begging for them to stop. One day just one day is all that he needed, all that he longed for. Finally, that day came.

The guards, blocking his only way out to survival, let their own guards down. He knew then, it was his only chance to escape. This would be his only chance to get to see his wife again and to meet his daughter for the first time. He knew this would be the only way to ever get to go back to normal life, seeing his best friend, watching Sunday night football, being at home and doing what he wanted to do with no worries of anything. When the time came, he made his move. He attacked the guards knocking them all out unconscious, and finally escaped.

After several days in the desert- snakes slithering from shelter to shelter hissing as he passed by, and coyotes howling at the moon following his trail - he finally made it back to his army base, where they quickly began an intense interrogation. Asking him where they were keeping the prisoners, how he escaped, what his locations there were and searching him of any wounds left upon him from the guards. After being at the base for two full weeks-which seemed like a century to him- he finally got to go home.

When the man returned home, things weren’t quite right. His once pregnant wife glowing with long, blonde, wavy hair and green eyes so green you would thing you were looking into a jungle of fierce love and compassion, now bare a constant cold hard look and pools of grey. Her hair now cut short and a deep red color. The once bright, plump, ruby red lips, now are a light pale pasty pink. Wearing no make-up and smoking she gives him an eerie smile as he walks into the house to meet his daughter. There she stood, their daughter, now 3 years old. She has brown, straight, hair surrounding her face. She is a tiny little thing like her mother, but very beautiful. She has the same glowing affect her mother used to carry with her before he left.

As he walks in the door, a tall, well groomed, sturdy man smelling of a peppermint pipe and cheap cologne stands over the sink washing dishes. The little girl is helping him. Laughing, she begins to put soap suds on his short goatee and his long pointy nose. He simply laughs and says, “Now that’s enough, Lilly” and resumes washing the dishes. She obeys him and begins to help dry again.

Lilly, the man thinks, Lilly like the flower on a sweet spring morning, waking up to embrace the beauty of the next day, and letting her beauty shine through to everyone in the world. He decided he liked no that he loved his daughters’ name. Walking up behind her, he smiles and softy strokes her hair. Feeling the wiry, thin, dry hair, he lets it fall back in place down her spine and walks over and embraces the tall man for a moment, trying not to cry he simply says, “Thank you, john, for everything you did while I was gone.” Taken by surprise John replies with a simple, “No problem old friend.”

His wife, Susan, is standing in the doorway, having an eye to eye conversation with John. Their looks of confusion and shock register with the man just as quickly as his wife notices he knows what is going on. Quickly Susan is at his side ushering him up the stairs to take a nap. After what seemed like hours of convincing, the man finally did.

When the man woke up it was dark, not a living soul was awake, or so he thought. Susan however, was not in their bed. Quietly he got out of bed, grabbed his bathrobe from so many years ago, and began walking down the hall to the stairs. As he approached the stairs he heard something and stopped. Whispers from the kitchen-and there about him. Secretively he crept down the stairs, making his way to the kitchen. What he hears, is not what he expected at all, nor never wanted to hear in his whole life.
My wife, is with my best friend, and there together? Kissing and wondering what to do? They got married, over our wedding vows? And they thought I was dead? What is going on here! He wanted to go in there and ask so many questions, but suddenly his world was crashing down on him. He wanted to scream, the ground is spinning and he feels sick to his stomach. Quickly he goes quietly up the stairs and into the bathroom. Questioning everything he had just seen and heard he splashes water on his face. Looking at himself in the mirror he becomes furious, with him with her with everything. Shouldn’t she have known better than to not wait for him? Didn’t she know he was going to be back no matter what anyone said, and of all people, how could his best friend betray him like that? After what seemed like hours of sitting there doing nothing but getting upset he finally decided it was time for him to go to bed.
As the months dragged on the more he grew angry and the more he hated him and hated her. Not telling him the truth letting him think that they were still married and john just lived with them. Rage ran through his dark, cold, veins. He started plotting a plan in the back of his head to avenge the very day his wife and best friend got married, but to also keep his daughter safe and sound. As he sits there pondering, running his fingers through his scruffy facial hair, and biting his lip, he comes to the only conclusion that is suitable enough for him and the only one that seems fair to make them feel as empty and cold as he. Death.
Having his mind made up he begins to plot out their deaths. Where, when, how, and who should be the one killing who? Should it be a quick death or a slow painful one, and make them suffer like they have made him do for the last six months of his life back at home. As these thoughts are running through his head he hears the light soft sweet sound of his little girl calling daddy. Quickly he washes all his anger down the drain dabs his aging face off, puts on a smile and begins walking to her room. As he opens the door he grows angry and begins to shout uncontrollably.
His little girls’ room, covered in soft pinks and purples. Walls with flowers decorated on and around her name. a small white book shelf sits by her princess bed, the bed she is in. the bed were john sits holding her calling him daddy. Quickly Susan comes running to see what the problem is. As she understands what it is that’s going on, she grabs john’s arm and shoves him out of the Lilly’s room. She then goes over picks up Lilly and takes her over to john and shuts the door in his face.
Pacing back and forth, the man picks up Susan’s in a great turmoil. “Sit down” he tells her handing her a cigarette. Sighing Susan sits down on the bed grabs the cigarette while rubbing her temples and begins to speak to the man. “You have to know she isn’t your daughter Chris.” “She never was, we didn’t expect you to ever come back, and when the National Guard said you were missing and had been missing for a long time we thought it was okay to go along and get married and raise Lilly together.” Hearing this, the man grows furious. He slams the door open, runs into his room and begins chucking things around and knocking tables full of old antique china over. He screams and bashes his hand through the wall. Flipping his bed over he finds what he was looking for, his suitcase he brought home with him not that long ago. Clutching it tightly he reaches inside and pulls the seams apart and gets out a 9mm. He hesitates for a minute and decides now is the time for him to do what he has wanted to do for the longest time. Kill Susan, and John. He loads his gun and goes back to who he thought was his daughters room. Susan turns around and before she even has time to scream or convince Chris otherwise, Susan is dead.
Chris quickly runs down the stairs finds john on the phone with the police and grows even more furious. He quickly disconnects the phone and shoots John before he could even stop to think. As he is standing there shock and confusion running through his head, recollecting what he actually did, Lilly is hunched down and hiding in the corner, she catches his eye, she is trembling and half crying and screaming. Sitting in the corner rocking back and forth she is pleading with Chris not to hurt her or mommy anymore, pleading him to be nice. Chris looks down at his gun and can’t help but thinking of the first day he strode into that house and seen that little girl standing there on the chair. Sadly, he knows he would never be able to shoot her. He quickly gives her a kiss and tells her he loves her with all his heart and runs out the back door.
Running seemed like nothing to him, he could run for hours and escape almost anything, but he didn’t want to escape. He just wanted to be free, to be far away from that house. That house, full of memories full of making a life, full of joyous times and hardship. All the thoughts and feelings he encountered after he returned home. He let out a long and loud scream before he noticed he had crossed the river. Gathering sticks he lit a fire and waited for morning to break and cops to be on the lookout for him.
Chris was almost asleep when he heard the barking and screams descending on him. They were close, really close and he knew it was almost time for them to arrive and take him away. When the cops finally caught up to him he had finally broke, he was rocking back and forth and holding a loaded gun to his head, chanting that very poem the old lady had whispered to him not that long ago. A police officer walks up to him and says, “Admiral Chris Johnson, you are hereby under arrest, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney…” standing not far away is Lilly looking right at him, and as he pulled the trigger to the gun at his head he looked up and the last thing he saw was Lilly, sitting there observing all the light had to offer her.