9/1/09 07:22 pm - Ablaze.
It was a hot, dry evening—though it hardly looked like evening—when she went out to run. The sky was a pale pink. As she looked up, she saw an aeroplane flying leisurely across the sky as though without purpose. She stood for a moment watching it fly above her like a bird. It was a strange plane, old-fashioned-looking, and something about it was beautiful.
So she started. She went slow first, pumping her arms like propellers. Her heart—her engine— was revving up. She moved at a quicker pace, her lungs pushing hard to keep up with the rest of her body. She focused straight ahead without a thought but with a single song in her head. She pounded the ground at a steady beat. Soon, her muscles began to ache and her head to whirl slightly but she persisted. God, how she loved this part, when it hurt so much that it was useless to stop. Burn, burn, and burn.
As she slowed, she noticed the sky was no longer pink. It white as cotton with the clouds vaguely visible. The sun—a perfect sphere— hung low in the sky like a burning orb, blazing through the tall palm trees. The sweat was cool on her skin, each drop falling as she strode slowly on the pavement. California was in flames today and so was she.