Hey guys, me again. It's approximately 12:07 am. All is quiet in my house, everyone except me who currently writes to you from under the covers of the bed sheets. Dramatic, eh? Well, this chapter is going to be a bit different. You'll get a line or two of intro than I'm going to write kind of a story within a story all in the mind of our dear friend Hazel. I've received more alphas that I am eager to incorporate into the story, but give me some time to introduce them. Thank you for the lovely reviews, you make me blush with your flattering remarks. I hope to see more after I post this! Hopefully we can get out of the 30s zone. So enjoy and review!
Through strokes of fire and smoke Hazel told her tale. Her words whispering to the memories, bringing us to a fall day.
A young girl with light brown hair caught in pigtails runs through the autumn leaves, a red balloon in hand.
"Daddy, Daddy. I want to ride in the balloon!" she says, giving her father a pleading look. Her father smiles down at her, than reached down and ruffles her hair.
"Sure, whatever you want sweetie."
He holds hands with the young girls mother, now pregnant with another child. The family is one of many at this autumn carnival, and the sounds of bells and laughing children ring through every molecule of the buzzing air. The weather is cold and crisp but because of all the people a person could wear a light jacket and remain unaffected by the chill.
The proud parents hurry behind their daughter, who runs to the hot air balloon at the edge of the carnival. A line of children wait there, eager to see the world from the sky. After paying the fee, young Hazel gives her mom and dad a kiss before running off to join the others, her brown eyes glittering with anticipation.
The balloon director fill the colorful cloth with air and loads the 7 little passengers into the basket. After running several safety checks he lifts off the ground. Hazel and the children screech and giggle, waving to their parents who shrink more and more as the wind carries them up to the cloudless sky. The young girl closes her eyes, feeling the wind in her hair and the sun on her fair cheeks. Suddenly, out of nowhere a boy pulls her back, making her fall to the floor of the basket. As she falls her head hits the back of the basket, and she begins to cry.
"Baby!" The boy and his friends taunt and the watching children begin to laugh. The balloon conductor does nothing.
Hazel closes her eyes, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. Suddenly, a white hot anger fills her and she begins to hear the blood pounding in her ears. She opens her eyes.
From the ground the parents watch anxiously at the colorful balloon as it floats above them. Screams slice the festive air as people watch in horror as the balloon explodes fire bursting from every seam. Smoke follows the balloon as it falls to the floor, the cries of children hardly heard over the sounds of sirens blaring towards the scene.
There were 7 deaths in the air balloon accident. 7 deaths that would haunt to small suburban community for months as parents and friends grieved the loss of a generous balloon conductor and 6 young children all under the age of 10. The tragedy, however, would haunt none as much as the seven year old survivor of the horrible accident. No one had a clue how little Hazel McKinley lived through the incident with little more than a head wound, cuts and bruises. Doctors would shake their heads in wonder how despite the roaring fire the melted the flesh off the other passengers, the child had not a burn on her. Some called it a miracle. Some a queer accident. Other's a gift from god, with Church men preaching how Hazel McKinley was meant for something great.
Yet none of that mattered to Hazel because after the accident she began to notice strange things happening to her. During her 8'th birthday, when she tried to blow out the candles, they exploded and burnt the beautiful Barbie cake to a crisp. Her parent's blamed it on bad quality wax.
However Hazel McKinley knew that the wax wasn't to blame. Her mother became worried when scorch marks appeared on her bed, and her favorite clothes went missing. Most of all what worried her was the way her young daughter's bedroom always smelled of smoke.
Hazel's little brother Henry was born when Hazel was close to turning 9. Even from a young age she was a good big sister, always playing with him. Never complaining about how he woke her up from her sleep with fits of crying. A year passed and now Hazel approached ten years of age.
One day Hazel's mother picked up Hazel from school, noticing she was a little quieter than usual. But she didn't say anything and when they arrived home Hazel went to her room and closed the door. Not a peep came from her. The phone rang. It was the principal asking to meet up with her parents because it looked like the 9 year old started a fire in the playground. When Hazel's father returned home they marched into her room.
When they went in Mrs. McKinley sat at the foot of her daughter's bed, watching her daughter as the young girl played with her hands.
"What happened sweetie? How did you set a fire? Why?"
Hazel looked up, tears threatening to brim over her long eyelashes.
"I don't mean to! It just happens! You have to believe me!"
"What do you mean "it just happens"? You set fire to the playground! Someone could have gotten hurt!" Her father shouted.
"It's TRUE!" Hazel screamed and suddenly a fire burst from her hands, setting fire to the bed. Her mother screamed and ran out the door, her husband close behind her. The fire lit up the old wooden boards, eating through the floor and devouring the home of the McKinley family. Hazel ran out the door, tears streaming down her face.
The house was destroyed in the fire. But that was not all. Baby Henry died from suffocation due to the smoke in his lungs. The parents grieved and in a unanimous decision they sent her to Hampton's Institute for the Medically Insane where she was written down as a pyromaniac and left there at the mercy of researchers and doctors. Her parent's visited her once to ensure she settled in, than she never heard of them again.
Hazel opened her eyes and stopped talking. The fires in her hands disappeared, leaving nothing but tell-tale black threads to capture the balloons and wax in which lay her untold tale.