When Paul’s eyes opened a second time, he was on the spine of a road, walking its path. As he looked from side to side, houses parted on the left and right, he came to the conclusion that he was on his street. Realizing that his house was the next one on the right, he tried to run, but his legs felt as if he was walking through water. He pulled his body right, but it was as if he were pushing against a brick wall. As he moved past his house, the aroma of fire embers and burning pine was in the passing air. He turned his head to see his house, there were flames spilling and poring from every window, every entrance, and even the garage. The house screamed into to wind, its insides breathing fire. The smoke rose from the building as it caved in, the structure to bent and turned. Paul’s heart raced, his mind spun, and his eyes fogged. His whole world was spinning, his body swayed.
“Are you alright?” said a voice that was meant for an angel. He snapped back into reality, realizing that noticeable voice was his girlfriend, Marilyn.
“Are you alright?” she asked again, fear and dread in her voice. He stared at her as if he had seen a ghost.
“What’s wrong with you?” her voice was getting more and more distressed. His heart began to beat like a Native American drum.
“Yeah I’m fine,” he said as his stomach began to turn with fright.
“How did you get here?” he asked. His palms began to sweat and run like if he had put them under a tap.
“ I've been here the whole time,” she said. All of a sudden his heart felt like it stopped, his breath rushed out of his chest, and his feet stopped.
“Were you here when…” he began to say before a red sports car raced down the road, coming straight at Marilyn.
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