I placed the dry twigs across the fireplace grate, trying to lay enough of a foundation to build the fire but arranged loosely enough to let oxygen through to feed the flames. I then added some paper to get the quick burn started.
Well, that’s incredibly boring.
Isn’t it Snoopy who is always trying to write this incredibly amazing introduction for his novel about the Red Baron when suddenly Woodstock flutters his way over and interrupts thus providing a bit of comic relief as well as a direction to hold interest for the reader?
Good God, I could use a Woodstock now.
The last of wood is disintegrating into red orbs, glowing amidst a pile of ashes.
There is a tiny blue flame struggling to stay lit.