The Warmth

A Story by Trystin

The mans house is on fire, but he is awoken in the midst of the night and is in a half awake trance that is hellbent on the feeling of warmth. Which he finds as he dies in his house fire.

Shrouded with warmth in the pitch black. I’m alone, but the warmth keeps me satisfied. Laying in bed, in a daze; not quite asleep. It’s bliss, it’s lustrous and inviting. Never will I leave. Time passes infinitely slow, yet fast. Awoken by a crash from the room beneath me, I refuse to move, the warmth holds me. More crashes below, still denying the inevitable. I’m being held, hugged, and loved. The warmth knows me. I’m standing now, a foot from the place of slumber. Peering out with restless eyes. Everything is dark with an eerie glow. Pulling me towards it. It’s the warmth. It’s calling me. I leave the room and the inviting warmth takes me in. I approach a door. The warmth, it’s trapped. Everything around me dark except for the door, it crispfully glows with darkness shrouding. I must free the warmth, it needs me. Opening the door I feel the warmth with all my body. Nothing has ever called to me more. I fall into the warmth’s arms. It knows me and nothing feels more securing. I close my eyes, it consumes everything, including me. It’s bright, but I’m with the warmth, forever.