Life From Death

         Jasarra looked to the heavens, wondering if her prayers could penetrate the overcast sky. It would not matter; her mind was made up. Today, her heartache would finally end.

         Her decision had not come without prolonged thought. Months of reflecting on the past, envisioning the future, and deflecting the present had brought her here. Memories of her husband, young daughter, and infant son filled her soul with a happiness as breathtaking as the Grand Canyon and a sadness as deep. They were lost to her in this world and she could not imagine another day without them.

         Collapsing into the brown remains of grass on the hillside, she gazed at nature's skeleton above her. Amazing, she mused. The tree still stands as if waiting for something to revive it, yet not a hint of green shows through the blackened wood. Perhaps a bit like myself.

         She looked to the ground at the base of the behemoth. Three manmade stones lay in stark contrast to the withered trunk, poking through the ground like dead fingers of an emerging zombie. The markers were ornately carved and polished; beautiful reminders of the cruel fate that had taken those buried six feet below them.

         Jasarra closed her eyes and let the familiar dream overtake her.





         ”The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the air is crisp and pure,” Ephron announced as he walked through the crude wooden door of the modest home. “I think it is a great day for a picnic.”

         Jasarra looked up at the comical expression etched into his face. The sparkle in his blue eyes infected her with joy. She wiped her hands on her apron and leaped into his arms, trusting he would catch her. He kissed her passionately. Like all their loving embraces, this one stretched into eternity only to be interrupted by the screams of a hungry infant.

         She withdrew from his arms and hurried to the other side of the room to Jarrod. She picked him up from the crib and brought the babe to an exposed breast. A bustle outside announced their seven year old daughter before she opened the door behind Ephron.

         "Daddy, you're home," she cried out and grabbed his leg in a fierce bear hug.

         "I only left this morning, silly girl," he laughed and rubbed Gemma's head with affection.

         "I know, but sometimes you go and are gone for days. I'm just glad today wasn't like that," she looked up with her brown doe eyes.

         "Well, it's a great day and I want to spend it with my family. Forget the ranch. Today is for the Jensen's."





         Miles away, lightning sped to the ground and exploded into a new kind of energy. The wildfire engulfed the landscape, devouring all in its path like a swarm of locusts. Hands of the inferno reached up in great columns, imploring the sky to bring it more oxygen to devour and winds to keep it moving towards more terrestrial fuel. The natural disaster was angry and beautiful in its destructive force. The plains, to humans vast, were a small morsel to the hungry heat.





         The beams of happiness from the orange orb in the sky brought laughter to the family enjoying their picnic under the great tree. They threw a ball back and forth to each other, the infant screeching his satisfaction in the game. They lay down, exhausted, on the thick blanket. They ate simple fare, but relished it like a feast. Staring up at the sky, they imagined all kinds of shapes the puffy clouds created for their pleasure.

         Jasarra lived her whole life for moments such as these, and their life was filled with them. When Ephron was not away tending to their livelihood, he always made a point of uniting the family with silly games, fun activities, and emotional conversation. Life on the plains was tough for many families, but not the Jensens. They savored each other's company and needed little else.

         Flames surrounded the Jenson family before they even realized the danger they were in. Ephron grabbed Gemma roughly and she protested for a moment until she saw the stark terror in her father's eyes. She silenced at once and wiped tears before they could fall from her eyelids.

         Jasarra held Jarrod so tight that only his muffled screams made her aware that she was smothering him in her breasts. She looked to Ephron as he scoured the burning countryside with his eyes, searching for a way through the inferno that pressed closer with each passing second. She put her back to the massive tree trunk and looked up at the dazzling blossoms above her. A stray spark drifted through the air like a feather and alit on an upper branch. The flowers ignited and moments later, the wooden appendage fueled the blaze.

         "Ephron," she screamed and the panic in her voice caught his attention. He took one look at the tree afire and took action.

         He grabbed the corner of their picnic blanket and pulled it violently towards him, sending the food and containers flying in all directions. He emptied the bucket of drinking water they had taken along onto it and gathered the family close before wrapping it around them all.

         "Whatever happens, don't stop running," he ordered. "And always remember that I love you."

         They sped straight into the flames.





         The tears burned Jasarra's eyes as she opened them to the scene of death again. The dream remained in her conscious mind, but with less detail. It haunted her wakeful state like a ghost. Caressing her with its cruelty, its substance remained just beyond her grasp.

         Rolling thunder boomed in the distance, following a fiendish bolt of lightning. The plains had darkened since her siesta and the threatening clouds continued a rapid advance towards her. Jasarra nearly laughed at the signs from above which confirmed her decision.

         She took a knife from its sheath at her side. It was Ephron's favorite hunting blade and she had whetted it to a keen edge that morning. She laid it against the inside of her arm as if to measure up the deed she was prepared to begin.

         Her nipple started to tingle and ache. She had come to understand this as her little boy, Jarrod, suckling from the afterlife. His phantom drained her of will and resistance and she dug the blade into the shallow veins. The blood pumped like a fountain and she drifted from consciousness within a minute.



         The heat dried the blanket long before they were close to safety. When it caught fire, Ephron quickly discarded it. Now they were exposed to hell on earth as they raced through the wildfire. The crackle of flames sounded as if they laughed at the doomed humans and its black smoke tickled their nostrils and burned in their lungs.

         A load groan from above was the only warning they had of the conifer's submission to the flames. The top half fell and swung from a stubborn piece of stringy wood. The impact against Ephron and Gemma was sickening and left little doubt that their bodies sent through the air held no life when they landed. Jasarra tried to scream but the hot air she breathed in only caused her to choke. She moved towards her husband and daughter, but blue flames gushed up before her as the heat ignited a bubble of wood gas. She could not reach them and she still had one more child to save. Ephron's warning to keep running no matter what happened chased her from the area.



         When she tried to breathe again, she could find no oxygen. The flames devoured it, greedily, leaving nothing for her ill-suited body to inhale. She held Jarrod tight to her chest and ran ahead, hoping to find a pocket of fresh air somewhere in the fury. Before long, her body succumbed to the lack of air and she collapsed. Voices sounded from afar in her ears and she closed her eyes knowing that the angels called to her and her son.



         "I found Jasarra and she still has a pulse," the voice penetrated the haze that was Jasarra's mind. "Quickly, Joseph, bring the bucket."

         "I'm coming, Pa."

         "God have mercy," the voice gasped. The sound of shock and pity sent a tremor through Jasarra's inner spirit. "The baby didn't make it."

         The implications of the words rocked Jasarra and she screamed within herself. No, not my Jarrod, too. Please don't kill my baby, God.

         The shock of cold water colliding with her burning skin caused her inner pain to manifest itself on the physical plain of her life.





         She opened her eyes to rain falling from the sky like a waterfall. The deluge flooded the area, washing away months of dust and ash that had accumulated in the drought. She glanced at her arm and saw that the blood still flowed, but had lessened considerably. The torrential downpour masked the river of tears on her face. She closed her eyes and fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep.



         She woke this time to sunshine. It tortured her pupils and warmed her skin. The brightness felt as if it shone with all its might upon only her. For the first time in months, she was filled with something besides despair and pain. Somehow, the burning orb in the sky gave her hope.

         Her eyes adjusted to the daylight and when she looked around her, amazement took hold. The fields were no longer dead and black, but alive with countless colors of flowers. The rain had brought with it life.

         Jasarra dared a look at the charred tree that had symbolized all she had lost. It was resplendent in its renewed state. The black bark had been stripped and the branches now supported virgin green leaves. Bees and hummingbirds swarmed around its reaches to harvest the nectar of the freshly grown blossoms. She wondered how long she had been unconscious. A look at her arm showed a thick scar. Not a cut or scab, but a scar. How long did I sleep? The thought flitted across her mind, but was immediately discarded as inconsequential.

         Jasarra leaped to her feet and approached the grave markers. They were overgrown with healthy green vines, the words barely visible beneath. They felt to her like foundations to be built upon. She looked up to the sky and muttered a brief prayer of thanks. Something had helped show her another option. She would begin again, bolstered by hope and renewed life.



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