Do you want to scream? Falling in the fire…
The flames flick up, licking the darkness that has fallen. It dances and prances with the light evening breeze that joins it intertwining together on a level more sensual than could be understood…the air both feeding and cooling the fire as the flames raise up reaching for it. Surrounded by rocks and fueled by a wood pile, the fire burns and blisters…enjoying the freedom that began with that first match strike that ignited the newspaper and kindling before larger logs were piled on to build it.
To the east the fire gives light to two standing horses that munch on the grass at their feet and each with saddles that are tied to tree branches to keep them from running. Their color is black or orange with the flickering light, and their large wide eyes stare into the fire for its warmth.
To the north is open field with hay waving at the breeze as it passes. After the field that flows into foothills is the beginning of mountains that, in the current darkness, watch invisibly from above. They stand stoic, god-like and observe all beneath them.
To the south is a cliff and city lights can be seen in the distance…the glow that domes all cities with light pollution. Beautiful and silent from this distance as the people in it move about doing city things on this city night.
To the west is more field, but this one low-cut with trails curving back to the barn and farmhouse. The lights are off and windows are closed eyes of wood and glass in the two A-frame buildings. The barn is dark wood while the house is white, even in the blackness of night.
Much closer, however, are the riders with their pinkish naked skin glistening in sweat and orange fire glow. They see themselves as the only beings in the world right now as she straddles him, reaches between her legs and guides him in. They believe their sex is passionate and wild.
The flames and breeze know better…but will not say.