“The Trash Fire Oracle”

Some Nights, the fire speaks... 

Not in words...  fire doesn’t care about grammar... but in shapes, in crackles, in the way the smoke curls like it’s drawing maps only I can read.

I lit the trashcan behind the gas station at midnight. 

Not out of necessity. 

Out of ritual.

The flames rose, orange and hungry. 

I sat beside them, warming my paws, listening.

The fire told me a storm was coming. Not rain... 

Chaos. 

Opportunity. 

A chance to do something big, something stupid, 

something legendary.

I nodded. 

The fire popped. 

A spark landed on my ear.

I took that as confirmation.

I don’t know what the storm will bring. But I’ll be ready. I always am.

Trash  Fire  Freedom...

It’s a prophecy. And I’m the one writing it.