Short Fiction #25 Fireplace
Flames caressed the logs. Smoke curled upwards. The glow flickered through the room, casting shadowy movements on the walls and ceiling.
â€œTime for bed,â€ said James. Elizabeth kept staring at the fire. She snuggled even closer to James.
â€œNot yet,â€ she whispered.
The grandfather clock chimed midnight.
â€œItâ€™s really getting late.â€
James yawned. Elizabeth cuddled even closer. A log broke open; a stream of sparks flared upwards.
â€œI really love this house,â€ said Elizabeth. â€œItâ€™s so cosy, especially when we have a fire.â€
â€œYes,â€ replied James. â€œAnd I really feel cosy every time I chop the wood.â€
All rights reserved. Copyright 2006 Trevor W. Hampel.
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