Five Flames
The unwelcomed autumn air freezes tears mid fall, ending their journey to the ground. Just like
bullets ending unfinished lives. The difference is when the time is right to end a journey, and the time
wasn’t right for them. Not even close.
To the fallen, candle wicks blaze in their stead. Feet settle in the field of leaves, hands cupped
holding that burning light, and warm clothing wrapped to protect skin from the brutal air. From above,
the field could be mistaken for the night sky with all its twinkling stars, dotted into constellations in the
inky blackness of the unknown. New tears fall with the arrival of the five families.
Dressed solemnly for the memorial, they each carry a single candle to the front. Hundreds of
eyes focus purely on them as they walk to the cloth covered monument waiting to be revealed. A man
from the city steps forth, the families huddled behind him.
Night has started to descend, the air chilling even more. Heavy clouds loom overhead and
threaten to rain on this already grave evening. The man begins his speech commemorating the five
students and everyone silently reminisces in their own memories of the lost.
Thirty minutes of memories being dredged up leaves emotions drained and eyes moist. The man
looks back towards the families, who nod approval, as he begins to enact the last part of the memorial.
He steps towards the cloth and pulls it back gently to reveal five pyres. Buried in front are engraved
stone tablets with their names boldly established. Family and friends stare at the beautiful monument,
though in their minds, they deserved more. They deserve to be alive.
Two parents stride toward the closest unlit pyre. The woman carries a photo depicting a girl
with black curls and soft smile. This girl’s mother starts to weep as she lays the photo in the pyre. The
father, candle burning in hand, strolls up to the pyre replacing his wife. His moist eyes glimmer in the
candle light as he bends down to put the hungry flame to an oil soaked stick. It catches greedily like a
starved creature and brightens the field in a soft orange glow. The illumination splits through the
darkness and the edge of the woods become visible as well as the school
Flames devour the picture hungrily until it is no more than ashes like the girl. She was one of
twelve remaining students in the room and the first to receive a bullet. She bled out from a nicked
artery. The family left the blazing fire for their daughter to let the next forward.
A family of three walk to the second pyre with candle and picture in hand. The parents hold back
fresh tears to be brave for their living son. Warmth from the lit fire protects the second family as the
mother settles the picture of her oldest son with his curly brown hair and forming mustache. The father
wraps his wife in an arm and bends the candle to set the oil aflame. As the inferno consumes the face of
the boy, the family finally breaks down; although they know he is being reunited with his love. The
second he jumped for the shooter, to protect her from another bullet, his life was taken. A painless
death from a bullet to the chest.
The ritual continues with the next family. Another picture and pyre ignited. Another teenager
dead. He’d been helping to patch the first girl’s wound putting himself in the way of the gunman’s wrath
and receiving an unforgiving bullet in the head. His picture frills when the fire licks over the edges and
his face becomes distorted each second under the intense heat.
A mother steps up, all alone to grieve for her daughter who barely witnessed life. She takes no
preventions to cover her sobs as she lights her daughter’s photograph ablaze. Her innocent daughter
ripped from her, gone like her husband. The picture of the straight-haired, smiley girl blackens and
crumbles into ash. Taken for no more than running to the door, trying to escape for help. Instead, a
bullet buried deep in her back.
The last family, a large group, sends a sister and father to light the last girl’s pyre. The sister
shakes from sorrow while the father tries to hide the silent tears dripping down his cheeks. Side by side,
they stare at the unlit fire and can’t move further under the grief consuming them. Another relative
steps forward to help the girl set the photograph of her dear sister onto the oily wood and guide the
father’s hand to light it. She tackled him, though the bullet didn’t just end him, but her too. One bullet,
two lives. The father’s countenance breaks and he lets out a loud bawl as the flames take up and all the
wood is covered in the destructive element. They back up from the blaze and everyone in attendance
admire the five flames.
The memory of the sixth student is on the brim of everyone’s mind as they watch the flames
dance. He is the reason for everything happening this night; his anger and sadness brought down five of
his classmates. His short fuse lit when the teacher called for his attention so he decided to pull the
weapon from his bag.
Five Flames flicker in the cold night and rain starts to fall heavily from the clouds. Five lives taken
to be consumed in fire and returned to the earth. Five families who will never look upon their youths’
faces again. One boy who snapped under intense pressures and seized innocent lives. Humanities
greatest tragedy.
Hissing loudly, the fires start to suffocate under the berating of the rain as the sky cries. The light
from the pyres ebb away and sends everyone into utter darkness as their candles, too, die out. The
abandoned embers of the dying fires join the five lost souls in death.