Fire of My Soul-By L.Braendle

Until last year, I never thought about what a soul might look like, let alone my own. But when my boyfriend, Steve and I rented a cottage in Iron Mountain, Michigan, I surely found out.

Mile after mile into the gray and gloomy night we traveled. As snow piled up around us, I quietly slipped further into depression and wondered if we should’ve just stayed home and faced reality. We passed old junk cars and run-down buildings-all ugly like my mood. The paved roads turned into icy, muddy trails, and I could only imagine the appearance of our black Honda Accord.

Steve, the rugged handsome type, looked like a handyman, but wasn’t. We’d been dating for about a year and made a good couple. Both of us were in our mid-thirties, had crappy childhoods and tried to be good people.

Unfortunately, we stopped trying to be good. I guess our parents told us we were bad, one too many times. Anyway, we scammed people out of money. Young or old, it really didn’t matter. We weren’t prejudice.

After Steve had driven several hours, we finally arrived at the bottom of a driveway where a sign read, “Welcome to Haunted Hill.” He looked at the sign, and then at me. He raised his eyebrows.

I shrugged my shoulders. Interestingly enough, ever since I spotted the ad in the local paper, I felt a strong connection to the place, like a long lost friend calling out to me.

Tree branches swayed and scraped together to the rhythm of the gusty winds as we drove up the winding trail, which led to the cottage located a few miles back. Our car tires spun as the hill became too steep, and slowly, we slid backwards sideways until we hit a large oak tree. Thankfully, we escaped any major damage and pushed the car to the side of the road.

Opening the door, Steve said with a frown, “That’s as far as we go.”

“What? Not up for an adventure? Grab our bag and let’s walk the rest of the way.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it? he asked.

Out of habit, I touched my stomach. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

On foot, through the howling winds, I thought I heard a voice. We approached the cobblestone cottage and cleared fallen tree limbs to reach the front door.

“So, this is it,” I said, shivering.

"Does it even have electricity?” Steve opened the creaky door and muttered,

“Lacy, what have you gotten us into?”

We moved about the room, which didn’t seem much bigger than a large bedroom. I pushed past the cobwebs and sat down on a soft, red sofa and dust puffed into the freezing air. “Man, it’s cold in here.”

“I’m going to check outside for wood,” Steve said, rubbing his hands together.

I spotted a fireplace along the far wall of the small living room. Floorboards squeaked as I walked back to look at the old paintings that lined the wall, and as I walked past the stone fireplace, a voice whispered, “Come to me.” I’m losing my mind, I thought as I started to move away.

Unexpectedly, flames shot out at me like projectile vomit from a baby. I jumped back to avoid being scorched and screamed as I ran for the door.

Steve gasped when he walked in and saw my face ashen and hair askew. “What the hell happened?” He dropped the wood and pulled me close.

“Flames came out of that fireplace, Steve,” I said shakily.

“But, I didn’t start a fire yet.”

“I know. It started by itself.

He walked arduously to the fireplace, which was cool and still. “I don’t understand.”

“Steve, maybe this place is haunted.

"You’re kidding, right?

“How else do you explain it?

“I don’t know,” Steve said, putting his hand through his wavy hair.

“See Steve, there it goes again!”

“I don’t see anything,” he said through gritted teeth as he stared at the fireplace. “We need to get out of here.”

“Don’t you see the flames? I can’t leave yet.”

“This is crazy,” he said walking over to me. “You’re not thinking clearly. Ever since the…”

“Don’t say it, Steve. This has absolutely nothing to do with that. I need time to figure this out.”

“I’m going for a walk. Be ready to go when I get back.” He slammed the door on his way out.

I looked into the red and yellow flames, and there before my eyes was a face. Not just any face. But mine. And, it called out to me.

“What’s the matter, Lacy? Haven’t you ever seen your soul before?”

I fell to the floor, gasping for breath. “How is this happening? Who are you?”

“I am your soul.”

I lowered my head to my knees and screamed like I’d caught fire. “This isn’t real. You aren’t real.”

The face snarled and a large piece of ember flew out and landed on me. “Why did you do that?” I asked as I swiped at my jeans.

“I’m trying to get your attention. I am very real. You need to believe me when I tell you that if you don’t stop living an evil life, you will destroy yourself.”

“I don’t know how to do the right thing any more. Don’t you understand?” I said with my face in my hands. “It’s too late for me.”

“It’s not too late. It’s time you take responsibility for your life.”

Tears streamed down my face as I whispered, “If you are my soul, then you know that I killed my baby, and there isn’t any fixing that.”

“You had a miscarriage. It wasn’t your fault. But, you can change your life for the better. Do you want to change?”

“It was my fault,” I cried. I lost my baby because I’m a bad person.

“Your actions are bad. You are not. Again, I ask, do you really want to change?”

“Yes,” I said.

The face slowly faded and murmured, “Don’t worry. I’ll be there to help you. Just listen to me.”

Steve walked back in to find me lying on the sofa. I told him the story about my soul and the fireplace. He thought I had fallen asleep and thought the dream was a sign that I needed to change my life and realize that the miscarriage wasn’t my fault. He even promised to change, too.

There was only one problem with Steve’s theory. I hadn’t fallen asleep. But, I did want to live a better life. That was a start.

###