Unavoidable

by Dear Apollo

Happiness is fleeting. One must grab it by the throat and keep it close. Otherwise, it slips through the cracks.

I come to my senses slowly.

First, my auditory senses.

The sizzling and crackling of wood and a piercing whistle reach my ears first.

Then, the smell.

The burning odor of meat and the rusty smell of blood.

Next, awareness of my body.

The pulsating heat and the pounding ache behind my eyes.

Not long after, taste.

The metallic taste of blood and ash on my tongue.

Finally, my sight.

…

…

Oh, god.