(An entire work inspired by the randomly-chosen song "Fire in my Soul" by Walk off the Earth)
Jane had started work early that morning, even before daybreak. It was
going to be 45 degrees in the shade today according to the weather
forecasts and she had to take advantage of that - at least before the
weather took advantage of her. She was sweating bullets as she dragged
another bundle of firewood, fallen branches and detritus to add to the
pile she had constructed in the middle of the backyard.
She paused to wipe the moisture from her forehead and embraced the mercy
of a brief gust of cool breeze. But she couldn't afford to be
distracted. All of this was dependent on timing. She ran back to the
huge roll of grass turf that had been waiting behind the house for the
last three seasons, part of her nostalgic for the time such purchases
were simple and straightforward. Heaving with all her might, Jane
dragged the turf towards her crude wooden volcano and began to unfurl it
like wallpaper around the structure.
Nearly an hour later, the sun burning the sky above white and Jane about
a pint down on moisture, she'd finished. The heap was wrapped up and
damn-near airtight. She glanced at her watch, and saw she still had a
good seventeen seconds to spare before ignition point. She took out a
box of matches, struck one and dropped it into the tiny pucker at the
top of the heap while she herself retreated back into the shadows at the
edge of the house.
Jane's eyes were fixed on the heap as the first curls of thick grey
smoke began to emerge from the shaft. Between that trapped fire and the
sweltering heat from above, it wouldn't be long before everything inside
her pile began to blacken and carbonize. Already the smoke was getting
thinner and bluer as the temperature rose. Jane could imagine the whole
thing was alive, waking up, filling with energy and yearning straining
to be released...
No, I can get lucky later tonight, after this is finished! she told herself. Or at least a cold shower...
It was past-midday now, time had flowed by and the pile was shimmering
in a heat-haze. It was a small pile, or else the process would take
weeks and require constant supervision. The blue smoke was a steady
curling up into the sky, like a genie about to emerge from a magic lamp.
Just a few more hours and it would all be over...
At some point, Daria had followed her out into the backyard and looked at the pile, unimpressed.
"You know, you could just buy charcoal sticks pre-carbonized," she observed.
"Oh bite me, Morgendorffer," Jane retorted.
Together they sat in the shade and watched the charcoal burning pile work its elemental transformations.
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