20/20 Vision

I awoke to an orange cross emblazoned upon a fiery ball, rolling up to my window. My bed sat low, and the ground was hot, so hot I smelled burnt flesh when I touched the floor to run. All around me there was acute darkness, and licking flames.

First thought, was: Find mom! Mom was always up early no matter if it's Monday or Sunday, she was the early riser, while dad kept me and my little brother Jacob during the day. Mom was a business Executive and she was extremely good at what she did.

Back to my fiery morning-I knock on the first door down the hall (I presume because it is very dark and I can no longer see my own hands before me). The heat was quite stifling as well.

"Mom! Open the door, ma!" I bang and yell. Afraid to go downstairs because it was extremely pungent down there. I kept knocking. Hopefully, she has already come up to get dressed for work when this happened. My glasses were fogged and nearly melted on my face, but I kept them on for assurance.

Never know when I may see light.

I pulled off my glasses and banged again on the door until I heard my father's grumble. The bed groaned, and the door creaked to allow me inside. I rushed into my father's big, strong arms and stayed there. Little Jacob was in their room.

Something wasn't right.

*

The windows in the back of the room showed sunshine reaching in, and cast a gold light on Jacob's blond hair. His back to me was an indicator that he was engrossed in some television show. Mom was ironing a pretty blue blouse, while dad still hugged me tight.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"F-Fire! There's a fire in this house, it is dark out there and, oh my God!"

"What did I tell you about taking the Lord's name in vain, Danisa?" Mother unplugged the iron and slipped on her shirt. Her matching skirt was long, covering her ankles and she had a simple, nice string of pearls around her neck dad got her for Christmas last year.

"I'm not crazy! Go out your door if you think I'm lying!" I said. Jacob momentarily turned from the television. A quizzical look on his angelic face. His X-men pajamas were faded, worn thin, but he wouldn't wear anything else to bed, or he would pitch a Holy fit.

"Honey, if there was a fire, we would be smelling smoke right now and the alarm hadn't gone off." He brushed a strand of my hair away from my face. "Bad dream?"

"I suppose." My head began to hurt as I recalled the rolling ball of fire, with the orange cross attached to it.

Mother picked up her briefcase from their huge four

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