Finding Garfield 1
Staring wide-eyed into the flames, he saw a girl, not much older than himself. She sat calmly on a thick vine slung naturally between two burning trees. Her dangling legs swung casually, as if on a rope swing. James cried for papa to help the girl, but papa was distracted by the fierce battle with the fire threatening to destroy their farm. Mama tried to pick him up, but James struggled against her grip, desperately seeking out the girl in the fire. She was there, picking up smoldering sticks. He told mama to look, but mama’s head remained stubbornly turned from the heat.
“Don’t worry, baby. Papa will keep us safe.”
The girl caught his eye and smiled infectiously. James stared with macabre fascination as the strangely-clad girl delicately weaved her way through the hellish scene, hopping on rocks and crumbling logs. Her thin brown hair fell haphazardly around her face as if she had cut it herself with rusted shears, and her gray-blue eyes danced as she happily played, seemingly oblivious of the surrounding devastation. The girl chased sparks like butterflies as his father’s sweaty body accumulated dirt and ash. Hitty and Mary desperately filled and refilled pails of water for papa to douse the flames, their young stringy arms struggling with the weight of each. Thomas attempted to help dig out the trench around the field, but papa yelled for him to stay back and help his sisters instead.
As darkness fell, the fire girl pranced deeper into the forest, out of James’ sight. The flames too retreated with the sun, thanks to papa’s heroic efforts. Papa raggedly dragged his body back to the cabin and collapsed onto their hard mattress. James asked papa if he saw the fire girl, but papa shook his head and moaned deeply. Mama rushed to papa’s side and pressed her lips to his forehead. Thick wrinkles appeared between her eyebrows and she mumbled something to Hitty who scurried out of the cabin, quick to return with a basin of water. With a scrap of dampened fabric, mama attempted to wipe the mud and pain from her husband’s body.
Growing weary, James curled up on the mattress beside papa. As he closed his eyes, he idly wondered if the fire girl’s skin was too warm, like papa’s. The unusual heat radiating from papa’s body gradually lulled James to sleep. His dreams were initially filled with the girl’s face in a raging fire, but it cooled slowly until he was surrounded entirely by thick, black ash. He shivered and stretched his small hand out in front of his face, only to realize that he was awake. The dark air smelled of yesterday’s fire and an unfamiliar stillness unsettled James. He could hear his siblings softly breathing from their beds in the loft, but he saw a dark silhouette near the window. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he was relieved to see that it was just mama. Next to him, papa’s body was cold. Papa suddenly shook with violent coughs, but he remained fitfully asleep. Frightened, James called for mama and she jumped a little in her seat. She swiftly tiptoed to his side, careful to avoid waking the older children.
As she drew closer, James could see that mama’s cheeks and eyes were wet. James tried to speak, but mama hushed him and gently pressed his face to her chest. She carried him back to the creaky wooden chair and sat down, cradling him awkwardly. She smelled like fire and papa’s sweat. James had lots of questions, but his eyes refused to stay open as mama gently swayed back and forth, humming under her breath.
