Premonition of Fire
Tom Raimbault
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Tom Raimbault

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Author’s Note / Reaction to Reviews
We are very pleased to have received our first, negative review for this short story.  And although extremely harsh, the disappointed reader confesses to have been genuinely surprised by the ending! However, there was a strange reference to my writing career being likened to a dead baby joke… not sure what that meant.
In any case, I took the suggestions and revised the story so that unnecessary hyphens were removed along with an over-use of caps lock. Supposedly, the original version left the impression that I was integrating a "Dun-dun-DUUUUUUUUUUUN!" effect to the revelations in the story.
And so, the corrections have been made. I can’t say that I’ve completely eliminated cap locks and hyphens. Sorry man; that’s just how I write. But you’ll notice the difference when compared to the original.

Premonition of Fire
Countless people follow the similar ritual of tucking in for the night, turning off the bedside lamp, and then slowly drifting off to sleep. Countless others, including myself, turn off the light and fall asleep before even hitting the pillow! But there have been nights when I laid in the dark and drifted off, sometimes experiencing a small dream of overpowering senses -- noises, lights, and people telling me things. They're only dreams: the mind's attempt to process the events of the day and find a suitable location to store in memory. Many of us have experienced the same.
And this was the time and place where Theresa existed on a crisp, January night, after an eventful day at the office. Her husband worked 2nd shift and wasn't due to come home until 12:30. And in the other bedrooms, her children slept soundly: 3 month old Kyle in one room, 4 year old Timmy & 9 year old Katie in another and 15 year old Brad in a 4th attic-bedroom -- probably surfing the web.
Every muscle dropped and sunk into the mattress, the cold sheets providing an exhilarating relief from a high-paced day. Theresa's abdomen relaxed as her breathing slowed and attention drifted from the activities of her house, to the inside of her mind that sought rejuvenation in the astral realm.
Roaring flames with the sound of a baby screaming: it was a startling dream, similar to the ones when we awake from the sensation of falling. Theresa jumped and quickly became annoyed at her own mind's quirky disturbance of sleep. Very tired, she simply closed her eyes and dozed off. But the dream resumed as Theresa observed scourging flames ignite the ceiling, the wall and the drapes. Blackened smoke arose from a crib, all the while a baby screaming!
Once again, startled from her sleep, Theresa sat up in bed. Kyle; there was something wrong with Kyle! She darted out her bedroom and into the nursery where the 3 month old infant soundly slept. She checked the outlets, examined the heat registers, and even went so far as to closely investigate the crib. But there was nothing to indicate a possible fire.
Maybe it was wise to check on Katie and Timmy. The two children slept peacefully in a room that was safe and sound. Theresa investigated the electric outlets, the heat registers, and examined the twin sized beds. But nothing: no sparks, no excessive heat, no signs of a potential fire.
Satisfied, Theresa crawled back into bed. This time it took somewhat longer to fall asleep as she pondered what could have caused a repeating dream so terrifyingly vivid. The mind is mysterious; but she often believed that with a little determination, control could be gained.
Flesh softened, bubbled and turned to liquid as the screaming baby reached its skeletal hand out of the crib in a desperate gesture for help. The flames would devour the little one who quickly learned the deadly force of fire. Awoken again, Theresa sighed and shook her head in disbelief. What was the meaning of the terrible dream?
Was Brad doing something upstairs? Many wonder if the 15-year-old has any capacity for reasoning, much less an ability to act responsibly and mature. Such was the case, on a Friday afternoon, in October, when Katie invited one of her friends for a sleepover. Theresa called her 15-year-old son and informed him of the guest. Sitting in the parking lot at work, it would only take 20 minutes to get home. But Katie and her friend would come home from school before mother arrived. Brad was being asked supervise for a brief moment.
And what welcoming sight would greet Theresa as she pulled into the cul-de-sac that Friday afternoon in October? Katie's friend ran with a force of terror, down the sidewalk -- tears of a last moment's plea to survive. Some 20 feet behind was Theresa's 15-year-old son, chasing with large butcher knife, flashing blood-thirsty teeth while laughing!
She laid on the horn, "BRADLEY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING???"
"Its fine, Mom; we're just playing!" Theresa had all she could do to calm the frightened child and hope that nothing would be said the following morning when returning home to her mother. 
Perhaps Brad was now doing something upstairs and a guiding voice was warning the mother of danger. Maybe he was burning a small animal or simply playing with matches. His bedroom attic hadn't been checked; and under the bizarre repeating dream, it might be best to do so now. Carefully tip toeing up the stairs -- as if not to alarm the teenager of her presence -- Theresa gently turned the knob on the door and slowly opened. But the room was dark; Brad slept and his computer monitor was black. And he truly was sleeping as evidenced by the sound of heavy breathing.
Returning to the main level, all Theresa could do now was sit in the living room, fearful of another vivid dream. There just had to be a reason! Maybe one of the neighbor's houses was on fire. She gazed out the windows, carefully examining each home; but no smoke or glowing flames could be found. 
Her niece and nephew! Of course! Although living the next town over, a psychic premonition would surely be appropriate to warn Theresa of a fire, allowing a phone call to her sister. But it was 11:07pm and the phone call might be unwelcome so late in the evening. But how could she live with her self if the two children died in a fire? And Theresa's sister would expect a telephone call if such a premonition were given.
"Are you sure Lydia? No burning smell? Your registers and outlets are okay? I don't know; it's just such a vivid and terrifying dream! I've checked the kids, even went upstairs to see if Brad was doing anything... No, he's sleeping... Well, I'm sorry for waking you; I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."
Theresa's husband would be home in a little over an hour. Maybe he could check outside for anything unusual. But what could possibly be unusual or suspicious; an arsonist? Brad had been hanging out with some creepy characters, lately. What if one or two of them were outside with accelerants and matches, prepared to set the house ablaze? Theresa turned off all the lights and carefully approached each window. She was terrified to open the curtains, but put her ear to the glass, the cloth material between her head and the window. She listened attentively and tried in all her sensory awareness to gauge the activities of the frozen outside.
Just then, horrified crying could be heard in Katie and Timmy's room. Theresa bolted through the living room and into the hallway, flashing on the children's light. Katie sat up in bed, crying hysterically, apparently awoken from a terrifying nightmare.
"What is it? What is it honey?" Theresa anxiously approached her daughter's bed in a mood of fear, brought on by a strange night.
Katie pointed to the doll house on the floor and muttered something inaudible through the sobbing.
"The doll house? You had a bad dream about the doll house?" Mother walked towards the miniature home, but saw nothing out-of-the-ordinary.
The young girl nodded her head.
"Well it was only a bad dream." Theresa, once again, approached her daughter's bed which only brought a wave of panic from the girl. Apparently Theresa was supposed to do something. But under the circumstances, the horrific crying terrified the mother, herself. "Katie? Katie? CALM DOWN!" She firmly held her daughter's face and looked into the teary eyes. "Now what's wrong? What's bothering you?"
In another flood of crying, the 9 year old girl spoke of the baby doll that screamed out to for help. Theresa looked in the doll house and understood what had happened. Past the age of innocently playing with plastic dolls, Katie played a sinister game of make believe in which mother and father stood before the fire place -- father poking the flames -- the baby roasting inside. Theresa removed the baby doll from the fireplace and set it back in the crib.
Now the house could sleep soundly; there were no further nightmares of infants burning in flames.

COMING AUTUMN 2010: The Tree Goddess
Copyright 2010 Tom Raimbault – All Rights Reserved!
Originally titled The Macabre Happenings of Fictional Mapleview, the autumn 2010 release of author Tom Raimbault will be named, The Tree Goddess. Blanketed by a sentience of ghostly creatures, deathly visits, and all other cries from the grave; the fictional town of Mapleview provides the perfect meaning to the word, macabre (pronounced muh-kah-bruh). The dead cry out in morbid sorrow for justice when suffering at the hands of those who pursue the dark side of humanity. Although buried and hidden from obvious eyes, the shrouded terror speaks through nightmares, terrifying visions, and bizarre apparitions. And if the cries aren't heard, the terror will appear in the physical world. Just ask one resident of Mapleview who awoke in bed, cuddling with the mummified corpse of a woman that had been dead for nearly 30 years! Not even the veteran detective of the Mapleview police force can provide answers for the bizarre phenomenon and mysterious disappearances that has seized the town.
Written by author Tom Raimbault -- a man who strives to exist in the realm of classic horror -- he views macabre as a trip: a journey beyond the very edge of life itself, where one discovers gratitude for a heart embedded with morals along with the reality of life-after-death. People who have journeyed beyond this vortex can find humor in macabre and say, "Thank God I'm not like the characters in that story!"
The novel should be released in autumn, hopefully before the Halloween season.