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Slowly, I push myself up on my hands and knees, careful not to look away as I stare out the window into the darkness at the bluish-green… ball of fire?
Great, I’ve lost it. I think, rubbing at my eyes. Still, it remains hovering just outside the window, as if waiting.
“Don’t do it,” I tell myself, hoping that saying it aloud will help.
It doesn’t, and a moment later, I’m pushing off the floor and slowly walking toward the window. With every step, I expect it to disappear, but even as I reach the window, it’s there.
It’s kind of adorable, bobbing back and forth in the air, and I blame my next move on that. I know better than to open the window. Really, I do.
But I do it anyway.
The cool night air hits me the second I do, making me shiver as I lean out for a closer look. It’s so close that I could reach out and touch it, and that’s just what I do. I feel the warmth of the little thing for a moment before it moves back, and my fingers close around empty air.
Pushing up on my tiptoes, I try again, but this time, instead of just moving back a little, it begins to drop.
“Hey!” I shout before slapping a hand over my mouth.
That was stupid. The guys would lose their shit if they saw me hanging out of the damn window. My call did nothing, and the little fireball continues to descend toward the ground. I’m out the window a second later. I’m careful to land on the balls of my feet, letting my knees bend until they almost touch the ground, so as to be as quiet as possible. The guy’s hearing might not be as good as mine, but it’s still pretty damn good.
After a moment of silence, I stand, whipping around to look for the little thing before I find it near the edge of the driveway. The little voice of reason in the back of my head screams that this is a bad idea. Every horror movie in the world has taught me not to do exactly what I’m doing now, yet I can’t stop.
It’s as if I’m being pulled to it, but I don’t have time to think better about it as it darts off down the street. Leaves and twigs crunch beneath my feet, but it doesn’t bug me. I often run around barefoot. The chill of the night is a little more than I would like to deal with in sleep shorts, but running is keeping me warm for now as I slowly start to gain on it.
If I can just catch it, I can turn around and go home before the guys even know I’m gone.
My little flaming friend has other ideas, though, as it hangs a quick left off the street and into the forest that surrounds most of our town.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss in annoyance, pushing myself faster, unwilling to lose it in the dense trees.
Twenty feet into the woods, the trees stop, opening up to a large clearing. The step before I make it into the clearing, my foot catches on an overgrown root, and I stumble forward.
Fuck, leave it to me to make it all this way and almost face-plant.
My breath fogs the air around me as I let out a huff of annoyance, reminding me how cold it is, and I shiver. I’d worked up a slight sweat running that chills me further. If I’d known I was going out for a chase, I would have worn pants or, at the very least, grabbed a sweater.
The clearing is huge, and as I wander to the center in search of my little flame, my mouth falls open as I find not one but dozens of them all over the place. Spinning around in a circle, I find them surrounding me on the edge of the clearing, so many that I lose count as they move to and fro.
What the fuck is going on?
I come to a stop, facing a huge circle made of stone. It’s easily ten feet tall, covered in vines and flowers, and if I had to guess, I’d say it’s been here a while. Nothing about it says man-made or cared for, but I think that makes it more beautiful, if possible.
Before I realize I’ve moved, I’m standing right before it.
A single flame floats up next to me, and I freeze, unwilling to move and send it fleeing again. I watch as it hovers for a moment before it slowly floats forward, disappearing the moment it hits the ring. I watch in amazement as another moves forward, doing the same thing, and this time, I notice a slight ripple as it enters. The area behind the ring either isn’t real or is just a reflection.
I should turn around and go home. We have enough shit going on already, and I really don’t need to add some creepy ripple ring to the list. But even as I think about why I should leave, I find myself rooted in the spot, unable to turn away as yet another little flame disappears.
No, I should go home, but what really is home?
I don’t even know where the thought comes from, but as quickly as I have it, I feel a longing in my chest to know the answer. I know the guys are my home, but as sure as I am of that, I feel there’s still more I’m missing.
Garrett’s proof of that, and I might not be able to explain it, but somehow this feels important. The need to know presses on me more with each passing day, and as afraid as I might be of getting those answers, I’m even more terrified of passing up what might be my one chance.
How often do you get to follow floating flames into a magical ring in the middle of the night?
Okay, maybe a bad question. Sounds fucking crazy like that.
“Fuck it,” I whisper, stepping forward into the ring after it, with a silent prayer that I didn’t just end up the first one dead in a horror film.
