Through the hole in the fence, she watched the flames grow from mediocre camp fire to a six foot blaze.
Her mouth worked on silent words Bigger Charlie. Make it bigger
Her eyes widened as white heat and orange flame danced over red-blue embers. Her hands excitedly came up to clap, and stopped short of making any noise at all, electing instead of listening to the sounds of the inferno inside the pit lick at the wood.
She saw, then, the door to the house open. Standing there, as Charlie was unsuspecting, was his mother; the crusty old bitch. Always ruining everything. Marring the vision as Charlie stood, handsome, even beautiful, over his fire.
She opened her mouth as if to cry out, her hands pointing at the old woman, willing Charlie to turn.
Don’t let her put it out, Charlie!
Dressed in only her nightgown, she ran barefoot to the edge of the property, shovel in hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the old woman’s voice was followed only by the clang of Wendy’s shovel striking her head.
“Hi,” she said