Burn Day

I woke with a hangover brewing in my skull. To my right was my Lynch Eraserhead poster, so fortunately I was at least in my bedroom. My gut folded itself into shapes as I wracked my brain to recall the events of the previous night. We went out drinking, as usual. Two people were present. Ana was there, and so was Cheng. Wait, no. Others were there, but I couldn’t recall them. The last thing I remember was our faces being illuminated by the dirty blue sheen of the neighborhood pool we snuck into. We hopped the fence, completely drunk.

At the pool the two of them held me in midair, each clutching one of my arms. They spread my figure into an almost-crucifixion while an unknown third party shone a blinding flashlight onto my face. This odd arrangement they jokingly called a spectral analysis, laughing as they exclaimed Gio is now purified! like a pastor at the altar of some megachurch. We may continue with the ceremony! I grinned back at them, plunging headfirst into the pool as the sharp cold of the water swelled into my mouth. I couldn’t remember anything after that.

My phone made it clear I was late for something. The clock shone one thirty-two PM, two missed calls from Cheng, and a barrage of texts. Did u get home safe? Yes, I replied. I cant believe you actually jumped off that!! Jumped off what? I thought. And are you coming to the burn day?

I forgot today was our burn day. That was what we called our monthly meeting at Dockweiler, the closest beach to us that allowed large quantities of wood to be lit ablaze, and simultaneously, a one hour drive from where I lived. We’d been doing it since we met in college. It started small, with just me, Ana, and Cheng, but by the time we had gotten our jobs and relationships and moved out across the city for various reasons, the invite list had become close to twenty-five people.

The reason we called it a burn day was simple. You could bring whatever possessions you wanted, and toss it into the fire to be burned. Was this entirely legal? I’m doubtful. But whatever the case was, people were excited by the idea and brought all sorts of items to destroy: Valentine’s cards from cheating lovers, firecrackers that fizzed upwards in columns of light, college exams stamped with red ink. Nothing was off limits to be cast onto the pile of smoldering wood pallets, transmuted into faint shadows twirling into the sky. One time a friend even brought her childhood violin, snapping it over her knee before she hurled it into the flaming circle. She stared longingly at the ornate wood littered across the fire.

The first few times we hosted the burn day were uncoordinated. There was more than an occasion or two where someone would forget the lighter fluid, or the person bringing the wood showed up late. But we were younger at that time, and willing to accommodate these sorts of minor inconveniences as long as we were together in one place. It was easier then with less people, and there was less of an expectation to see some grand spectacle unfold each month. But as the invite list grew, people needed to know the schedule for how long we were burning for, if there would be refreshments and food, and so on. It really was troublesome. We hadn’t expected our personal college gathering to let off some post-exam steam to garner such popularity. It was still fun though, and I’ll admit that the fire’s size grew increasingly mesmerizing the larger the crowd became, which kept the flames fed for longer.

I stumbled out of bed and padded my way over to the sink. I filled a glass with water from the tap, and downed the entire thing in one gulp. My throat was unbelievably dry. I had an unshakeable thirst from last night. It was like I had devoured an entire desert, down to the last grain of sand. I filled my glass a second time, and swallowed it all. The second drink made me feel a little better. I ate a bowl of cereal while standing, staring at a fixed point on my kitchen counter, then picked up my phone. Yes, I’ll be there, I replied.

This was the largest turnout to a bonfire I had seen yet. I arrived close to sunset, and my friends were already working hard to manage the sizable crowd. I recognized the regulars, but there were many other faces that I could not recall. Probably friends of friends. I never invited that many people to the burn day anyways. The shore hummed with commotion. The pumping heartbeat of an electronic house track swelled in the distance. Waves crashed gently on the rocks. Ana was hauling large wooden pallets to a clearing fenced off with caution tape. A few familiar faces were helping her drag the pieces over with thick, braided ropes, leaving wide tracks like a giant pushing a massive sled over the dunes. Cheng was off to the side, carefully arranging condiments. I noticed all the food was grouped together by color. She waved hello to me.

The cool wind gusted ceaselessly. I squinted to stop sand from being swept into my eyes. Across the shore I saw boxes strewn everywhere, all of the possessions that people had brought to burn. Worn Beanie Babies still carrying their name tags Biff and Boo, a pile of Astrophysics for Beginners textbooks, a recently purchased bouquet of twelve stem roses, a signed Mission High School Class of ‘93 yearbook, a pair of blue Nike soccer cleats with the signature of a famous player across its side, a My Little Pony comforter meant for a twin-sized bed, a four-foot-tall Christmas tree (it was June), a burial urn, a cherry red postmodern coffee table missing one of its legs, a leather duffel bag full of postcards from Bhutan, Djibouti, Andorra, and a loaf of sourdough bread. Offerings to an unknown god, one of exothermic properties releasing energy in the form of heat and light.

I surveyed the view as the sun lowered its head in repose. The horizon’s glow dimmed with each minute that slipped by, and the faces of the crowd changed color from golden to burnt orange to charcoal. Anticipation swirled amongst the congregation. Half-eaten hotdogs glistened in the dusk, clenched in assorted fists. Red and white cups containing beverages of varying alcoholic content passed from hand to mouth like remnants of a holy sacrament. A ravenous hunger grew in the absence of the sun. Expressions were obscured. Laughter resounded in the dark, from unknown places. Someone emerged from the fog of the crowd.

– Gio, where have you been?

My eyes adjusted to the light. It was Ana.

– Hey, sorry. I had a terrible headache from last night.

– No need to apologize, I’m glad you made it. We’re about to start.

She grabbed my arm and led me to the edge of the caution tape ring. I glanced upwards. The number of wooden pallets was truly impressive, amounting to nearly triple my height. Its silhouette towered ominously against the ever-darkening sky. How Ana and her crew had stacked them so high, I had no idea. Various types of kindling were nestled throughout the wooden slats, and at the bottom was a small hill of dry wood. The crowd arranged itself in rows, faces forming three concentric circles.

Ana stood by my side as we watched Cheng soak the kindling towards the base of the structure with lighter fluid. She sprayed the liquid accelerant tenderly, like a gardener watering her carefully curated flowerbeds. One by one, she arranged the empty cans of fluid in a neat row outside the circle, then stood back, and carefully inspected her work. The murmurs of the crowd grew feverish. The onlookers clutched their items against their chests and bundled them neatly between their feet, shifting side to side. Cheng began soaking a cloth ball the size of a grapefruit with lighter fluid on the other side of the circle. Bronze drops cascaded down from the sphere she gripped with gloved hands. Cheng turned it over carefully in her palms. She looked bittersweet, like a parent watching their child board the schoolbus for the first time. Her high-pitched voice sliced through the crowd.

– It’s ready!

A sudden uproar consumed the beach. Cheering diffused through the crowd. In the darkness their teeth glinted white. Cheng held the cloth ball high in her right hand for all to see. I saw something flash across her features, and I could tell she was no longer here with us. She was in another time, in a place where there rested something old. You could see her kneeling there, lit by torchlight in an amber current, a place where ancestors roamed across plains of wild grass and on their backs were pelts of long-forgotten creatures, rippling with taut sinews and fur growing in dense patches. There was a childlike satisfaction in Cheng’s face. Her eyes scanned the crowd, who began to chant.

– Burn,

Cheng’s fingertips sunk into the sphere as she clutched it overhead. I could see small depressions across its tattered skin. She lit the cloth ball with a flourishing swoop of her hand, which held down the trigger of a yellow stove lighter. The flames traveled rapidly over its surface. She tossed the flaming ball upwards, like she was attempting to place the sun back into the sky. The crowd roared again in approval. The sun plummeted from the dark back into her glove. She was relishing the moment, savoring what power she held in swaying the events of the hour. I could hardly recognize that this was her.

Cheng then cocked her arm back like a baseball player readying the first pitch. The crowd screamed for her to throw it. This is the purpose of crowds, to incite action. This crowd in particular wanted her to ignite the fire, to set off a chain of irreversible events, as Prometheus had once done long ago from the gods, to indulge in our shared pyromania, an act that all humans will continue to perform for as long as we exist. Cheng obliged their request. She swung hard, driving a perfect pitch into the heart of the pile with a soft crack. Silence hung in the air. Everyone waited, staring into the heart of the wood effigy that rested in front of us, searching for the glow of the ball burrowed deep within.

The flames spread shyly. The kindling at the base of the pallets caught first, enveloped by the tendrils spreading out from the sphere. The flames ingrained themselves into each crack and crevice of the wooden tower, like the roots of a plant searching for a water source. No surface was left untouched. The base of the tower suddenly erupted into a fountain of heat. Cinders rained down in wide petals around the circle. The heat was overwhelming, washing over us like a tidal wave yanking fishing boats out to sea. Cries of approval streamed throughout the audience.

– Burn,

The flames crept ever higher, like a vine radiating upwards on a tree. In the air was a reversion to something primal. Our eyes reflected a world that had since long passed. People laughed and grinned fearsome grins. I imagined an ancient mammoth that had been backed into the corner of some glacial divide, torches and spears urging it onwards to the precipice, wary of its unknown fate. The heat pulsated. Wood cracked and crumbled into shards. Pieces of the tower broke off and plummeted to the sand with a crash. The crowd howled.

The first possession to be thrown into the fire was a large white teddy bear. Its body flew overhead as if it was held aloft by wings. It must have been soaked in fluid beforehand, because it immediately ignited. People cheered. The blaze spread across its disfigured form as it laid atop the burning wreckage. The flames hollowed out its torso first, then its head, consuming the synthetic fur until the bear’s limbs tore from its body, unrecognizable. After a few more minutes, the poor stuffed animal no longer existed in this world.

The flinging of the bear signaled that the event had commenced. Everyone’s possessions rained down relentlessly, like a colorful artillery barrage. Three more stuffed animals took the bear’s place on the mound. Throws arced deftly in the air. Furniture was snapped. An urn was shattered. The year 1994, and 2005, and 2014, went up in smoke. We felt full in a way that food could not make us.

In the flaming debris I saw the childhoods that were never quite the way we wanted them to be. The wasted years. The memories we yearned to destroy and leave behind on that beach. The decisions we wished to take back. The flames devoured everything. They did not care for your race, your status, your creed. At the core of the fire was our past swirled about and reflected back into us, the last glimpse of our history we would ever see. This is what we all knew, deep in our hearts.

I searched for Ana and Cheng’s faces in the chaos. Both of them had already hurled their items into the flames by this point, and were silently admiring the spectacle that unfolded with curiosity. They noticed me looking over at them, and grinned reassuringly. I grinned back. It was far too loud to say anything. The noise of the blaze drowned everything out, leaving me to watch the expressions of the crowd play out like silent movies. People were laughing. People were smiling toothy, frightful smiles.

As I stood amidst the burning, I knew this night would be the last we ever saw of each other. There was no reason to think this, I just had a hunch it would happen. Perhaps the fire had illuminated some vague premonition in me. After this evening our friendship came unwoven like a worn scarf passed down hand to hand through the years. I tried contacting Ana first, then Cheng, but it seems their phone numbers have changed after all this time. That’s just how these things go. When you get older you have all sorts of loose ends.

Sometimes when I’m at the beach I am reminded of this fire, and the flash of youth we felt in that moment. The flames lapping at our feet, the light dancing across the sand. The way we watched our pasts smoldering under the night sky, its stars shining like a spilled bag of precious stones. Behind our grins was the reason for it all, the secret behind the oldest trick played on us by the world.

October 31, 2024