Crumbling Ash

First of all, when I posted that youtube video of the poet, I really wanted to try writing something in that lyrical manner that she was speaking in. I'll use this post as practice.

Yesterday I went to a sort little renaissance fair with Ellen, Nicole, and Nick.
I got to attack people with foam swords. The people in charge of the booth decided that I should have a fighting name - "Slap chop."
These sorts of places are a lot of fun, with peopel walking around as fairies or dragons, both physically and mentally. Everyone's having a good time away from normal life.
Afterwards, it was voted that we go to 7-11 and get slushies.
As I followed Nick's car down the road. Ellen, Nicole and I sang along to the end of Let It Go. My voice trailed off and my eyes immediately locked onto a could-like column rising from a building just ahead of us.
"What is that," I murmured, unheard by the others. With the fast-acting alarm of one whose father was once a firefighter, my mind clicked on the idea, "smoke!" Which I quickly pushed out of my head. Certainly it was nothing more than steam being released from some strange chamber within the walls. But my certainty quickly faded as I saw lines of black laced among the white vapor.
Still trying to persuade myself otherwise, we drew up alongside the building. Steam was seepign from the seams of the building.
It was definitely not steam.
Ahead of us, Nick had noticed the same thing and pulled over at the next corner. I pulled up behind him, directly across the street from the smoking building.
Flames were flickering from the top of the lowest level, like blazing grass sprouting from the rooftop. From the taller areas of the building beyond, smoke was spiraling into the air.
I stepped onto the sidewalk and stared in shock.
Ellen dialed 911, and found that several others had already called in the warning. But the firetrucks had yet to arrive.
A woman hurried past, carrying two puppies in her arms. She said that there were people and animals inside.
Immediately a switch went off in my mind, and a mad desire to rush over there filled me. I don't knnow what I intended to do, but my instincts were shouting at me to do something. It took a lot of will power to keep myself away from the building that was slowly blowing out more and more smoke. I'm guessing that's not a common reaction.
A woman walked past, screaming. Her words were grief-slurred, and incomrehensible. I wondered if there was someone in there that she knew, either human or not.
The distant sound of sirens finally started to wail in response. The firetrucks finally appeared and extended a ladder into the sky.
A couple onlookers muttered information about the building - that it was abandoned, but had homeless peopel living in it.
The wind pushed the smoke down, so that it surrounded us completely with the smell of campfires. It stung my eyes, and I ducked into my car to grab a cloth gorcery bag and press it agains my mouth. My eyes watered, turning the bag damp against my face as I squinted into the smoke.
Still I wanted to go over there and ask if I could help. But they would never allow that.
Flecks of black ash fluttered down from the sky.
A lady pulled up behind my car, blocking most of a lane so she could take pictures of the expanding blaze and darkening smoke. A man swore at us through his car window.
Still transfixed, not wanting to move, my friends said we should probably leave so we weren't in the way. How long had we been there? Fifteen minutes? It felt like no time at all.
In a daze, I climbed into the drivers seat and glanced back once more to see a nearby tree caught up in the blaze. I followed Nick the rest of the way to 7-11.
We pulled up, several blocks down, and ash rained down. I reached out and caught a blackned leaf, crushing it between my fingers and staining them black. Puffs of early cottonwood fluff mixed with drifting debris.
From the picture windows at the front of the convenience store, we had a perfect view of black smoke billowing up behind the mistletoe-strung tree.
We picked out our food and I absently selected a bottle of milk, drinking it as I stared out of the window.
In my head, the desire to go back kept chasing around my head, along with thoughts of how crazy I was for wanting such a foolish thing as running into a burning building that I'd never seen before.
The wind shifted again, turning the air around us hazy with the scent of flame. Above us, smoke stretched across the sky, expanding as it swept across the horizon.
The column of smoke pales, then darkens again as a fickle indicator of the state of the fire.
We all stall, entranced by the distant smoke and fluttering ash. Finally we all convince ouselves that it's tome to go home and leave this day of foam swords and burning buildings behind.