God Knows My Name – A Name Like No Other

Flash Fiction by Heidi Gray McGill

Smoke fills my nose, clogging my throat. I rub at watering eyes—whether from the haze or disbelief, I do not know. My spit tastes of metal, though the twisted frame of the vehicle is out of reach, far, far below.

Pebbles crunch under my feet. One step forward, one simple lunge, and I will join the fate of those below.

Birds squawk as tiny creatures chatter, running pell-mell for safety or family.

I will find neither, no matter how fast or far I run.

Heat rises, and ashes flit in the breeze as if seeking another unsuspecting life to destroy.

KABOOM

A plume of dark smoke rises, creating a denser haze, bringing with it the smell of death. Glass shatters—like my heart. The creak of metal turns to a low groan—or is that me making the sound?

My body leans over the precipice in time to see the last remnants of my life careen into the abyss of darkness.

Something pulls at me, but not in the direction I desire.

“Ma’am, are you hurt?” registers in my mind.

What a ridiculous question. My heart has been ripped from my body, leaving only a shell of myself.

“No,” I answer as I crumple into well-padded arms. Yellow stripes lead up to a matching helmet. Seventy-three, Sheltra, the safety gear reads.

“I’ve got you, ma’am. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Laughter bubbles from deep within, or is that sobbing? Nothing will be right again.

“Can you tell me your name?” The fireman covers me—the blanket a shroud.

My name no longer matters. It is only one identifier of who I am. Wife, sweetheart, lover—but I lost those names to war.

Now I am naked, stripped bare of my favorite name—mama. Grief chokes me, and I claw at my neck. My chest tightens, causing my arms to stiffen.

Someone is yelling. I am reduced to ma’am.

The chaos around me turns to peacefulness as a hand reaches for mine.

“Daughter,” he says.

It is the best name, and I melt into its familiarity.

“It’s time to go home.”

The End

From the Author: Flash Fiction is a new genre for me. I didn’t choose it, yet somehow it found me. In my new community, there is a Writer’s Guild. It is a secular group, and I find myself often blushing at their creative works, yet they seem interested in mine, calling them thought-provoking.

I make a concerted effort to intertwine God into every piece I write during our prompts.

On this day, we were shown a picture similar to the one above and given twenty minutes to write a story.

I anticipated most would see the fog rolling up the mountain edge. My mind saw smoke.

I honestly do not know where my words came from, nor did I have the ending in mind before I began. I simply wrote. Words flowed.

I grabbed my phone and checked to verify Fireman Richard Sheltra’s number, wanting to memorialize my friend in some small way.

When I shared my rough, unedited piece with the group, my knees shook, and my voice warbled. I choked on my words, which hit me like the glass shattering in the story I told.

God knows my name.

It isn’t a perfect story. I’m sure there are rules to writing Flash Fiction I didn’t follow. Rules or not, what matters is I was obedient, and a new mission field glimpsed another piece of who God is.

Connecting with you is important to me. Figuring out how to leave a comment can be challenging, but if you are willing, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this piece. If you have a story to share, please leave it in the comments.