Too Late, It's Gone, 2006, by Emily Bohannan

From MemoryArchive

Who: Emily Bohannan
What: Cast Party Mishap
When: October, 2006
Where: Washington, Iowa

“Watch out!” Ron called, pushing through the small mass of people who had gathered next to the campfire to warm themselves over the small flames. “Bag of tender coming through! Whoops!”

There was a loud ripping sound as the paper tore and fire tender poured out of the bag onto the smoldering fire. Hungry flames leapt up, eagerly eating at the dry twigs and leaves that had fallen on its dying embers. Ron quickly picked up the debris that had missed the pit and added it with the bag to the fire.

“Perfect,” Cassie declared, grabbing a poker and sticking a marshmallow onto the end of it. “This’ll burn good!” Almost instantly, she pulled the marshmallow back out, burnt charcoal black and smoldering.

“That’s disgusting,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Why don’t you just eat some of the kindling instead?” Cassie shoved the gooey mess in her mouth and shrugged.

The breeze shifted and the campfire smoke rolled in my direction, deluding the spicy taste of the cashew chicken in my mouth. I stood up and dragged my chair to the opposite side of the fire, next to two sophomore boys who were propping their feet up on the metal edge of the pit. I leaned back in my chair, listening to two girls sitting on a picnic table play a Nintendo DS game. Cassie stuck another marshmallow into the fire and it erupted into flames. She quickly jerked the poker out of the fire and the marshmallow flew through the air, landing right in between the two girls who immediately jumped up, screaming. When we began to laugh at their horrified expressions, one picked up the hot missile and launched it, smacking Ron on the arm. It was a gesture that only made the rest of us laugh harder.

Suddenly, the laughter changed to shouts and Josh, one of the sophomores I was seated next to, jumped up and began running around in circles. The foul smell of burnt rubber filled the air. It took me a moment to realize his shoe had caught fire and had erupted into a giant ball of flame. He managed to get the shoe off his foot and began stomping on it. I watched the odd dance, listening to the others around me fall to the ground holding their sides, tears of laughter streaming down their faces.

After a few seconds, Ron put out a hand to stop Josh and said, “It’s too late. It’s gone.” With that, he picked up the shoe with a poker and deposited it into the flame. We watched the shoe twist and melt, making the perfect kindling for our little fire.