(flash fiction exercise. couldn't find my journal--you may disregard this post.)

tangerine flames crackled as the thin silvery haired lady traced a pattern of tiny triangles printed in her polyester nightgown. the mahogany rocking chair creaked deep and monotonously in correspondence to the same reoccurring thoughts as her glossy eyes gazed, transfixed to the lazy clouds crawling up the chimney and lacing feeble lungs. in a sudden flit, her lashes locked and a festering premonition embroidered her psyche. she felt her body wither as flesh meshed with the sodden ground and regenerating roots ramped within oblivious marrow. paralyzed in a trance of catalepsy, dewy tear buds blossomed as a pitiless purple orchid flourished unremittingly. her vision ceased. the chair no longer creaking. she wallowed in apprehension before allowing consciousness to fully reemerge. her quivering eyes turned again to the hissing blaze--which now had waned into mere hues of hushed plum and timid crimson.