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The silence grew louder as she faced the door. Her throat caught on the strange taste in the air. As she stretched out her hand to turn the knob, silence screamed a warning. She pushed the door open anyway.
A wall of flames fell on her, engulfing her hand and the doorknob. Her arm burned like a dry branch, while the smoke twisted around her in choking coils and her own screams filled the night. But the silence of the alarm in the hallway was louder than her screams.
The damp chill of a spring night caught her, and Janelle Scott shivered violently. She pulled the front door closed quickly, but not so quickly that she didn't see the pile of burning rubbish in the street. The smell of smoke must have triggered the nightmare. Tomorrow was trash pick-up, and Aunt Leah had gotten rid of a number of cardboard boxes. Someone must have tossed a lit cigarette out a car window. Jan shivered again, then headed up to her bedroom. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpeted stairs. In the dining room, the old clock struck two; outside, the streets were silent. No one drove down quiet residential streets at this hour, starting accidental fires. Jan reached the landing and looked out. The fire was burning down, and cardboard ash drifted in the light breeze.
Her teeth chattering, she hurried into bed and pulled the down comforter up almost over her head. The sheets were cold against her feet, but gradually her own body heat warmed them. It had happened again. As far back as she could remember, Jan had walked in her sleep when she was upset. She'd done so almost nightly after the fire which had taken both her home and her parents from her, six months earlier. With the passing of time, the disturbing episodes had stopped. But within the past few weeks, they had started again, along with nightmares. Living through the fire had been bad. Reliving it endlessly in her dreams was almost unbearable.
She shuddered violently one last time, then slowly relaxed into the warmth of the bed. She had to get back to sleep; tomorrow was a school day. But the nightmare was still vivid in her mind. She'd let it fade for a while, rather than close her eyes and risk another dream. The wall of fire had been real, and remembering it made the scars on her arm itch under the tight sleeve of her plain nightgown. Back then she'd had a beautiful robe with deep ruffles and lace on the sleeves. The ruffles had caught fire when she'd opened the door. She always wore long sleeves now to hide the ugly scars. But never any ruffles.
At last, the warmth and quiet darkness soothed her and she went back to sleep. As her thoughts faded into the half-world of dreams, the smell of smoke tickled at her nostrils once more.