I carved shadows on the midnight rains. A whole lot of despondent footprints on the water. Somewhere, underneath the third layer of the waters, I left you back with oblivion. But your shadows were lighter than the water. They came up on the surface of the water and floated with the kerosene.

"I love the smell of kerosene", you used to say.

Matchsticks. Drenched shadows in memories. Darkness. A drop of water from the tap, repetetive. Music on your bathroom floor. The intoxicating fragrance of kerosene. I saw you dancing with the flames inside your eyes. That night, you didn't let me in.

Tonight, I walk through the infinite corridors of the burnt-out rain.

Labels: fiction, fire, flash fiction, light, rain. water, shadows, short story, story, surreal