In the smoky gray courtyard, the firing squad is lined up, awaiting those to be shot. The former smoke while the latter lit candles in the night on their windowsills. But a section of the confiscated buildings is on fire and firefighters are trying to tame the ever-spreading flames – those who live in the area are out firing questions at officers ill-equipped at this fired-up injustice. The morning sun rises firing the tops of burned-out trees. “Fire! Fire!” a second of hesitation too many, “Fire, fire!” And all, at present, is gone up in tiny little bits of smoke.
In response to: https://carrotranch.com/2019/04/04/april-4-flash-fiction-challenge/
PaperShots 
Such a twisting tale, following the word, and yet the word is highlighting the variances of injustice. Your story reads like a Celtic knot of flame where we end up being mere wisps of smoke. When we all could be so much more.
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Thanks as always Charli for your insightful comments! The image of a Celtic knot is now, to me, the perfect visual for the piece and its flow.
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It made me think of the fires in California last year. I used to live in Chico (in the Sacramento Valley) and you could see Paradise on the ridgeline to the mountains. We thought about buying a home there, but the prices were much higher than in Chico. Now, all that beauty is ash.
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Terrible. I’ve never (fortunately) witnessed anything like that first-hand, but fire and its destructive power has made its way (so i’ve noticed) into quite a few of the things I’ve written over the years…
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