Death by the Fire
By J.E. Brennan
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About this ebook
J.E. Brennan
J.E.Brennan is a new author from Ann Arbor Michigan. In the midst of transition herself, Brennan has taken to writing as a means to explore her own story as well as those of many others. Brennan is currently adventuring in the realms of literature, arts, and sciences with her trusty (and perfect) pup, Zephyros. Brennan credits Zeph, whose namesake is He who brings the Western wind, with her leap into the unknown to develop, redefine, and realign herself with her own truth. May these stories be just the start.
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Death by the Fire - J.E. Brennan
Copyright © 2021 J.E. Brennan.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by
any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system
without the written permission of the author except in the case of
brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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ISBN: 978-1-6632-2536-8 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-2537-5 (e)
iUniverse rev. date: 06/28/2021
CONTENTS
The Sacred Combination
The Runner
The Reading of Judith Wozinski
Blood Moon
In Hell
Death By The Fire
THE SACRED COMBINATION
25025.pngI t all started with a dream.
I had just gotten home from a shift at the shelter and was completely exhausted. My feet hurt, head ached. All I wanted was a shower, a shot of whiskey, and some sleep, not necessarily in that order.
I got myself taken care of and settled into bed. Most nights, to actually close my eyes would have taken an hour at best, but this night was different and I was out right away.
I suddenly found myself in a white room. It feels incorrect to call it a room really as the walls were so white that the seams between them had all but disappeared entirely. The only object around was a black coffee table with a small box sitting on top.
The box had a built in seven-digit combination code with dials to change the numbers. As I went to touch it, a person popped up.
Hello there,
s/he said. Even after taking a second of pause to investigate the being in front of me, I was unable to tell whether they were male or female.
Welcome,
they continued, offering a little bow.
And, where am I being welcomed to exactly?
The center,
they said. Welcome to the next step. Warning, it’s a turn.
Do I want to be in this ‘center’?
Ha,
they chuckled. We don’t care much for ‘wants’ with these things. They kind of either come or they don’t. Few really want them because many don’t even know they exist.
And this box?
I ask, picking up the small cube.
That’s why you’re here.
"Why I’m here? Why am I here?"
The being took the box from my hands and placed it back onto its surface.
To put in this code.
To the next step…
Yes, to the turn.
Okay, to the turn… Will I like this turn?
The being laughed lightly again.
We don’t care much for ‘likes’ either.
Right, well why would you,
I reply snarkily.
Exactly.
Okay, so where do I get this combination?
You should know it.
I found myself stunned. I had no distinct memory of this code I was somehow meant to know. No one had ever slipped me any paper detailing the digits to place that would open this lock.
How… How would I know this number?
"These numbers actually. Seven significant numbers given to you throughout your life."
Given? By whom?
By us. The ones who knew them before you.
Despite my interest, I was beginning to feel confused. A sense of foreboding came over me, a deep feeling that I’m not certain I can fully explain.
By you?
I ask. Okay. So if you know them, can you tell them to me?
I don’t have to. You already know them.
I DON’T THOUGH!
You do,
they stated peacefully.
And what if I don’t figure out this combination?
I ask, getting angry.
You must.
And that was that, they disappeared.
I stared for a long while at the box in the white room. I picked it up, put it down, fiddled with the dials, and attempted to input some random options. No luck.
HOW DO I DO THIS!?
I shout to the world.
There’s no one in the room so the asking seemed futile. Until, suddenly, the room shifted, and instead of a completely white space, it was a comfortable little office with a barcalounger and a bookshelf.
The shelf wasn’t any higher than my chest, but it was filled to the max. The books weren’t great pieces of literature or well-worn works of fiction, but instead albums, pictures of...me. I picked out the first one and began to thumb through the pages.
It was the album of my birth. Each picture held so many faces, people who were still alive and others who have since gone, surrounding me, holding me, loving me. Page after page, row after row, the photographs celebrated my arrival to this world. I closed the book in silent and happy reflection.
The front of the album was covered in beautiful markings. Strange icons and symbols that made little sense to me, although they seemed to work together. One glyph stood out amongst the others: a line over an inverted triangle over a crescent moon with small curves encasing a single dot.
Three. The day of my birth, the first number significant to me.
I put it into the box. The dials clicked and turned into place, and when it settled, a dim green light appeared, shining from behind the number.
Must be right.
I returned to the bookshelf, feeling slightly more capable than before.
I looked through a few more albums, before finding one that was as ornately decorated as the first had been. The signs and symbols on the front were different, however, they didn’t seem as celebratory. They felt grim. I opened the cover to find a blank page. In fact, most of the pages in the large album were blank. I ran my thumb along the edge until I found a break that stuck out. A lone picture of a young me, laying on