Guardian by Valerie King Page B

with her, I still wanted to stay with my mother and father for a dinner party. Just once. I was beginning to believe that I would never be able to convince them. And the older I got, the more curious I became.
    The buzz of the timer pulled me from my thoughts, as Mom jumped from her chair and pulled the piping hot tarts out of the oven. I looked up from my half-eaten ginger snap cookie. Beautiful sparkles outlined my mother’s shape. They were tiny golden flecks resembling a silent snowfall. I cocked my head to the side and watched them float effortlessly. Everywhere she walked, they danced along with her.
    I shut my eyes and rubbed them with my fingertips. I slowly peeked out of the corner of my right eye, the sparkles still present, but this time they were even brighter than before. The light had intensified, brighter than the sun’s rays, as the tiny specks of dazzling light spun faster. I cupped my hands around my eyes as I tried to keep them open; they stung wildly from the intense glow.
    “Mom-my,” I slurred, my mind growing clouded, as I summoned her attention.
    My mother spun around, sweat running down her brow from the excessive heat of the oven.
    “Macy, honey!” she screamed aloud.
    My mother dropped the tarts on the kitchen counter. One tart went rolling to the floor, leaving a bloodstained puddle where it fell. She flew to my side as I toppled off of my chair, my body limp.
    At first I couldn’t see anything. Blackness engulfed my world as I let go. A faint light began to grow, slowly at first, and then spreading itself out into familiarity. I caught a glimpse of myself standing alone in our family room. Everything was neatly in its place. A gentle summer breeze swept through the open window; a simple classical lullaby played sweetly as I tiptoed lightly across the hardwood floor.
    “Mommy, where are you? Where are you?” I walked from room to room, calling out for her, but her voice never responded to my fearful cries.
    Walking out the front door, I ran to Ms. Lennox’s apartment just down the hall.
    “Ms. Lennox! Ms. Lennox!” I called out, pounding my small fists on the door. She didn’t answer, and I slowly backed away and began running down the stairs of our apartment building.
    “Mommy! Please…Mommy!” Tears were streaming down my face as fear grasped my tiny hand. My mother would never leave me home alone. I found myself on the first floor, the front desk completely empty. I pushed the revolving door with all my might, finally stepping outside into the heat of summer.
    That’s when I saw the fire above me. The familiarity and safety of my life disappeared almost instantly. Running across a normally bustling street that now lay barren, horror pawed at me as my world stood empty. The crackling of the fire filled the air, and the pungent smoke permeated my nostrils as I spun around to look at my home, now riddled with flames.
    A strange humming filled my ears as I looked in all directions for something…someone. At first it was quiet, but soon it became a deafening blare, so unbearable I covered my ears with my hands. Flames were now seeping through the roof, licking the outer edges. I tried to run for help, but my feet wouldn’t move an inch. My red sandals had melted to the ground beneath me as the heat of the fire raised droplets of sweat to my blazing hot forehead. The raging fire consumed my thoughts. I could feel the heat, the blistering heat that was so overwhelming I gasped for breath.
    That’s when I saw her. My mother. She was dressed in a long, white, silken gown. Her hair was pulled back into a beautiful French twist, her lips stained red and her cheeks rosy pink. Her icy blue eyes were staring at me from the window of our tiny apartment on the second floor, the smoke billowing around her angelic figure. Why was she just standing there? Why wasn’t she running from the fire, and why had she not answered me when I had called out to her?
    “Mommy! Run, Mommy!” I screamed