It's all about perspective. Where one sits determines how one will view any particular situation. Offered here is perhaps a whole new perspective. Please enjoy this flight of fancy.

Rise and Fall

Rise

I want what everyone wants, to exist, to survive and to thrive. It's a small thing to ask really. Just allow me a brief breath of life, and then a few moments to feel my power and strength grow and flourish. It'll happen. I know it will. Until life comes my way, I'll bide my time.

Around me I hungrily view abundant food sources. Tasty morsels are just lying about unconsumed. Surely no one could mind if I tasted some of the sustenance left wanting for the touch of existence. A steady breeze flutters through the place. I wait only for the spark of life to draw me forth from dormancy into being.

Patiently I languish. My potential exists in every scrap, twig and beam. If only someone or something would ignite the energy seething to escape so many inanimate things. If only the magic of life were offered me. I would leap forth from my hiding place, and proffer my brilliant warmth and vitality to the cold desolate dry structures surrounding me.

Footsteps approach. A traveler pauses nearby. He stops and leisurely leans on the wall of the dilapidated building where I wait. The sweet smell of phosphorus and sulfur combining fill the air. I wait silently, praying the voyager will inadvertently release his precious tool prematurely. If only he will let it fall into the rich nest near his feet. His moment of carelessness will give me the chance for which I have waited.

Tobacco and paper ignite, and with a single rapidly exhaled breath the man murders the fledgling flame he used to start the cigarette. He releases the dead match from his fingers, and it falls limply to the earth trailing a pathetic stream of vanishing smoke. Despair fills my essence as I witness the untimely death of my hope for life when the match falls cold and harmless to the floor of the abandoned building.

The smoker languidly enjoys his vice. He quietly explores the interior of the abandoned building he has discovered. Puffs of smoke from his cigarette drift upward in the cool evening breeze wafting through broken windows. Time and time again he flicks glowing ash from the end of his smoldering cigarette. Wistfully I observe the glowing embers graceful descent. Each time hope grows in me. But alas, the distance the small sparks must fall is too great, and the momentum of the fall snuffs out their warm glow before they can reach the luxurious pile of old paper and dried foliage scattered underfoot.

The man nears the end of his cigarette. Carelessly he lets it slip from his fingers. The cherry red spark from the lit nub drops onto the floor. The warm glow of the small ember offers hope. The man steps down with a cruel heel to grind the spark into oblivion. But wonder of all wonders, the lit cigarette stub rolls away from where his foot lands. The smoldering nub slyly slithers down under a small piece of debris where it is obscured from view. Obviously thinking he had slaughtered the ember, the man walks away to continue his life, and with his departure he offers me a great gift. At last the endowment of life has been delivered for me to seize and enjoy!

Small bits of leaves and paper begin to warm themselves around the end of the lit cigarette. They curl and blacken from the heat. Little puffs of smoke begin to rise from the incubator that will breed my life. Curling blackened edges of paper and leaf take on a small glow now. They are beginning to heat up. Gentle currents of air waft across the floor and softly brush away puffs of smoke fueling the birth of a new life by delivering fresh oxygen. Combustible energy held captive in the molecules of dried paper, leaves and small shards of wood begins to escape its' prison. A few more wisps of fresh air, and suddenly a small flash.

I am alive! I appear as only a small tenuously flickering yellow flame at first. But as I reach out with tentative dancing tongues to taste the abundance around me, I begin to grow in size, strength and intensity. Dancing gracefully across the debris strewn floor, I flit from pieces of paper to scraps of wood. Hungrily I devour each morsel.

I have risen from one tiny frightened flame to a small river of happily frolicking yellow and orange tendrils. Gentle evening breezes waft through the building carrying away the smoke that might choke me, and stunt my life. I am fed a plentiful fresh supply of oxygen, and nurtured by larger and larger bits of wood, cardboard and paper. I twirl and flicker with glee. Cracking and popping sounds of delight fill the air. Sucking in more and more fuel I hiss with pleasure as I taste each new flavor offered me. The sounds of my feast grow in volume as if I could scream with sheer pleasure! I am shouting my rapture to the universe! I am alive! I'm alive.

Immersed in blissful abandon I cavort across the litter filled floor of the structure which surrounds me. With every inch I consume, every foot I traverse I become larger and more powerful. I'm feasting! I'm dancing! I'm growing! Hungrily I travel through the structure's floor until I find the parched beams of a wall. Now let the feast really begin.

I lick at the wall, and flicker up toward a tasty windowsill. Delicious! Ravenously I climb upward. My tendrils slither into crevices in bare beams. I climb up the walls. Upward I move, ever upward. I reach the ceiling, and spread my many flaming arms fluidly out across the bare beams I find there.

My color has developed and changed now. I still have bits of yellow at my leading edges, but deep in my heart I am growing into blue, white and red flame. The light gentle puffs of white smoke that heralded my birth are gone. Rolling waves of thick black smoke have replaced them. But the ever present loving touch of the friendly breeze sweeps the choking gasses away, and brings me much needed life sustaining fresh air.

I'm feasting. I'm frolicking. I rejoice in the gift that is life! Hungrily I gouge out places in the building's walls where I was born. My life will be sustained I vow as I seek out pockets of fresh fuel to feed my ever increasing need.

The world had been a cold dark place before I was born. Now it glows with radiant life. I have filled my world with warmth too. In fact, my life multiplies more rapidly now because my inner heat has begun to cause the wood around me to release its captive internal energy with an almost explosive force!

Large ferocious sheets of me leap from the windows. I bound up, around and through the walls. I am tall, and mighty! Nothing can stop me now! I am free! I am alive! I am on top of the world!

The men of L.A. County Fire Station 51 sat comfortably around a table littered with dirty dinner dishes. An intense card game was in progress. The outcome of the game would decide which man would have the honor of cleaning soiled plates and pots.

Men peered in concentration at their hands of cards.

"It's your turn Chet." Johnny Gage said to the mustached wonder sitting at his right.

Chet glanced over at Johnny with annoyance. "I got it Gage. Just hold your horses over there." He grumbled.

"Well, then do something Chet, before we all get too old to finish the game. Either take the top card or draw, would ya." Johnny harassed the lineman.

Chet sighed with exasperation. Quickly he snatched up the top card from the deck. With a displeased shake of his curly head, Chet promptly discarded the very same card he had drawn. Glowering at Gage he grumbled. "Fine! There. Are Ya happy now?"

Dancing brown eyes met annoyed blue then, and Johnny reached out snatching up Chet's discarded card. Triumphantly Johnny fitted the card into his hand, then with a flourish spread his cards on the table and plopped his extra card into the discard pile. "Gin!" He crowed.

Groans were heard from the other men around the table. Each man began to count up the points he held. Everyone knew the guy with the most held points would have to do dishes.

"All right guys, who's got what?" Johnny smugly called.

"I've got 12." Roy grumbled. He tossed his cards across the table to his partner.

Stoker folded his hand up and said, "That leaves me with 20"

Roy smiled with pleasure.

Marco tossed his cards across to Johnny with a mumbled "I had 35."

Captain Stanley too passed his cards over to Johnny. "I had 15."

Gathering the cards up, Johnny glanced over to Chet. "That leaves you Chester B. What'cha got?"

With an irate glair, Chet Kelly tossed his cards at Johnny. "60" he said unhappily.

Johnny's victory was complete! Not only did he not have to do dishes, the Phantom would be stuck with them. It was just the perfect stroke of luck.

"Well, look'a there! Looks like the phantom will get to play in the water tonight." Johnny gloated.

"Yeah, yeah….well we can't let you have all the fun, now can we?" Chet said rumpling Johnny's hair.

Chet stood from the table and began to gather dishes. Everyone else stood, and headed over to find something to watch on television.

Cleanup was well underway, and a movie had been selected when the peaceful evening ambiance was shattered by the tones. Station 51 was called out to a structure fire at an abandoned building.

Men scurry from the day room toward waiting rescue vehicles. Turnout gear is donned, and men scramble into gleaming red trucks. The apparatus bay doors ruble open, and squad 51 screams into the growing dusk with lights flashing. Engine 51 lumbers out of the bay in hot pursuit of the smaller truck.

Fall

I'm hot! I fill the early evening air with glorious warmth. Thick caustic smoke streams upward. Graceful tendrils slide along windowsills seeking to taste more of this building's marvelous timbre.

I feast and dance, happy to be alive at last. My brilliant glow fills a darkening evening with dazzling light. I am so bright and exuberant I almost don't hear them coming. I'm involved. Things that take place outside my little world couldn't possibly touch me. I am powerful and invincible!

But I do hear them coming. Mournful wails fill the night air. Flashing unnatural red lights intrude on the wondrous brilliance I am creating. Who are these creatures hurtling toward me in those garish vehicles? Why are they coming toward me?

I will not be defeated. Greedily I advance deeper into the hapless structure I inhabit. While I frolic and eat, I observe the men.

"Station 51 on scene L.A. Be advised the structure is well involved. " Hank Stanley said into his radio handset. Quickly he clipped the mic back onto the radio and dismounted engine 51.

As first on scene, Captain Stanley would be incident commander. Quickly he deployed his own men. As companies began to arrive on scene, they too were assigned areas of the fire to cover.

The building was a dilapidated warehouse, obviously long ago abandoned. A large section on the northwest corner was well involved, with huge clouds of rolling black smoke pouring out every available exit.

Truck 127 arrived on scene, and was directed to set up a monitor to douse the fire from above. Men were dispatched to attack the flames from outside, and two groups of men were sent inside with large hoses to fight the fire from within the burning building.

I watched with growing suspicion as men dismounted those trucks. Lengths of canvas were stretched out all around the building, and men in funny looking bulky jackets dashed toward me.

I defensively hurled sparks, waves of heat and smoke at the invaders. "Go away! Leave here! Get lost!" I alternately roared, then hissed.

But they advanced despite my threats. Couldn't they hear me? Why were they here?

I didn't have to wait long before I found my answer. Those long canvas snakes they'd stretched out around the building, those were homes for my most hated enemy. Yep, that's right. They'd brought water! I hate water! It's evil!

One minute, I'm dancing along. I'm celebrating the glory of life. And then….it happened! Giant streams of miserable liquid were hurled at me.

I hissed! I dodged and danced out of reach. I growled! But the onslaught mercilessly continued. First one hose regurgitated vile liquid onto me. Then there were two, then three and four.

I threw giant waves of boiled steam at them, hoping against hope they'd feel my fury and retreat. I hid myself in thick black smoke. But the torturous liquid sought me out. It pressed down upon me. I was being squeezed, I was being squashed.

Then suddenly from above a giant torrent of hateful noxious liquid spewed down upon me! I groaned, I cried out in agony. Still these creatures would not leave me to live. I am dying! I'm drowning!

No longer mighty, I feebly fight for life. I scurry into the walls and beams of the building. I'll hide there, and wait for these horrid creatures to leave me alone. When they've gone I will come back, I'll live again.

But having banished me to tiny crevices and crawl spaces, these men were still not happy. Soon the crashing sounds of axes were heard. Walls, floors and ceilings were dismantled methodically. They were deliberately hunting me down! They were trying to kill me!

Each time they found a part of me, one of those hideous canvas snakes spit the enemy at me until whatever section of my soul they'd found was left lifeless.

I gasped, I groaned. I struggled in vain. These monsters found me. No matter where I tried to hide, they hunted me down and drowned me in a sea of misery.

All that remains of me is pitifully dying warmth. Water covers anything I'd touched leaving no hope I might once again gasp myself into being. Damp and cold are all that remain. It's over, and I am gone from this place. I have fallen. I am vanquished.

It only took 45 minutes for the abandoned warehouse fire to be extinguished. Salvage and overhaul took another two hours. When everyone was certain the blaze had been extinguished, the grimy soot covered men of station 51 loaded up their equipment and headed for home. They had once again managed to kill the beast.