Title: Blaze Jeremiah
Genre: Women's Fiction
Wrapped in the scent of camphor and holy candles, Blaze Jeremiah
drifted in the place where dreams and prayers were one, letting the
soothing sound of the saints brush her ears like a lullaby.
Saint Anthony, pray for us. Saint Benedict, pray for us. Saint
Bernard, pray for us.
Her mother was at work, at a brand new job in a brand new place. But
she might come home early like she did that night last week, waking
Blaze to lead her across the chilly hallway from Myrtle's apartment to
theirs. She might come home alone, calling Blaze "Baby" and fussing
with the blankets on the sofa bed. Blaze snuggled under Myrtle's
homemade afghan, wishing tonight would be like that.
Saint Dominic, pray for us. Saint Francis, pray for us. Saint Leo...
A sharp sound sliced the room, silencing the prayers.
"Lord Jesus." Myrtle struggled from her knees. The sound repeated.
"Gunshots," she said, hastily crossing herself.
Blaze clutched the afghan to her chest. There was shouting now, and
she could sense the panicky fear beneath the sounds as they jumbled
and bumped one another. One voice separated itself from the confusion.
It can't be. She's at work.
Blaze ran to the window, ignoring Myrtle's warnings to stay back.
"Mom. It's Mom."