Fiction | Short Story

We Are the Flare

The house erupted faster than it should, but that’s the trouble with dancing on somebody else’s hurt.

Beware of the supplication of the oppressed, for it ascends to Allah as if it were a flare.
Source: al-Mustadrak 118

Before it ate enough of the house to calm, the fire took on faces; gnashing teeth, furrowed brows.

You’re back, you’re back, oh, you’ve come back,


We felt each other and we felt beyond and we felt a fury that we, as children, should not have been capable of carrying.