I sat alone at the skate park for an hour and a half before deciding to start the short walk back to my street. The air had become crisper and a light snow was beginning to fall as the sky rapidly darkened.

I shivered. It was something I had been doing a lot of lately. Speeding up the pace, I tried to work off the cold seeping into me, but I had to breathe, and every breath felt like a frosty knife was digging into my lungs. Feeling air as chilling as this was incredible and not something I'd expected to experience until I finished university, saved up money and travelled.

"You're back late." Shannon Weston was surprised to see that her lanky son had actually bothered to stay out past the time she'd set. "Did you see anything interesting or find some kids to hang out with?"

"No. I wasn't expecting to," I lied.

I wasn't expecting to meet those two. Exactly.

"Unless you count the McDonalds, because I couldn't live without that place." I handed her a wrap that I'd bought with my own money after Rowan and Julia left.

"Now I'll always know where to find you." She took the wrap and poured a glass of water from the tap, grimacing when she put the glass to her lips. "This is crappy water. Maybe I'll just have the wrap."

I left the kitchen and walked into the living room, noting how much it had changed since the morning. Half the number of boxes remained; there was more space. A small couch and TV were situated in the middle of the room.

As I walked towards the stairs, a bright flash in my peripheral vision stopped me in my tracks. A great burst of flame was outside the living room window, closing in and melting the glass. The fire flowed swiftly into the living room, completely devouring the furniture and the pictures of me as a younger kid.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the burning heat, terrified, sure I would be enveloped and burned to a crisp by the fire. Not looking death in the eye, almost the entire house was destroyed in a matter of seconds. The foundations remained, with the flooring uneven and crumbling. The flames had disappeared, and they had spared me.

Speechless, I looked to the sky, grey with an enormous plume of smoke that spread over the entire town. Every last building was gone, the trees charcoal, the people I hadn't even met non-existent. I felt a stab in my chest, then an empty space, when I walked back into what had been the kitchen. Shannon Weston lay practically disintegrated, the charred remains on top of a collapsed chair that had partially survived.

I wretched, grasping for something to hold before I fell, but there was nothing.

Another blast, indigo, flew towards me; I was pushed backwards, failing to put up a fight against the dark imposing force. It completely overcame me, crushing me into oblivion-

I stood in the living room, about to touch the remote. I froze and wildly looked around. The glass was intact, the pictures resting on a set of drawers. Despite the snow and lack of heating inside, I was sweating.

No fire, yet I still felt the heat.

I breathed heavily as Mum came into the living room, tearing into the wrap. She noticed my gasps and speed walked over at an alarmed pace.

"What's wrong? Are you secretly asthmatic?"

"I'm fine. Just thinking."

"That's a strange way of thinking, Eddie."

She didn't believe me. "Are you sure? Your eyes are glazed. Feeling sick about school tomorrow?"

"No," I muttered.

"You're sweating an awful lot. And in winter. A fever?"

"I'm fine."

"Maybe the weather change has affected you. Sit down and watch some shitty program." She led me to the couch, pressing the remote firmly in my hand.

I pulled away from her. "Going upstairs."

She nodded wearily. "Okay. If you do feel sick, get some Panadol or something from the bathroom."

"If I know where to find it."

She sat down with her wrap and turned on the TV. I trekked upstairs, still feeling sick from the sight of what I had seen. I stared at her until I reached the second floor of the house and my vision was obscured.

A wave of light headedness swept over me. I had been holding my breath, concentrating on that instead of the flames.

I felt dizzy, and put my arm against the wall to balance and lead me to my room. I collapsed on the carpet upon opening the door to my room and moaned, holding my hands to my eyes. I stretched my eyelids, trying to get past what I'd seen, reminding myself that she was safe.

I crawled under my old desk, once a station for my dad's scientific research. Then I remembered that it was an old wooden desk and I thought of fire tearing through my life.

Why was I so affected by this illusion? Why was it so vivid? Why did I still think it was real? It was just some strange sort of hallucination I'd had out of nowhere with no reason to and with no prior medical conditions to conjure it up.

I'd probably forget about it overnight, anyway.

Suddenly, I heard a pair of feet coming closer on the second floor, and Mum barged in.

"I heard a thud. Are you okay?"

Obviously, since I was scrunched up under a desk of the man who'd left a Mum for alcohol and another woman, I didn't look good.

"I'm totally okay," I said, crawling out from under the desk. "I was just looking at some of Dad's old stuff."

"I can't believe he gave that stupid old desk to you."

"Neither can I. He basically lived here."

Before she could ask why I was in the position I was, I grabbed the first weird thing that came to my attention-the 'secret' cupboard under the desk. Discreetly turning the knob, I snatched up the first thing I saw that looked scientific; a small white cube, about 5cm length, width and height.

"Look at this. It's a weird cube."

"I think it's just a toy you used to play with."

"I've never seen it before in my life."

I carelessly tossed the cube to her. She looked over it carefully. "Maybe it is one of your dad's useless creations. I don't remember it either."

But she held the 'useless creation' closer to her chest, lost in thought for a moment.

Suddenly, a strong, dark desire washed over me, and some force pushed my gaze to the cube. I didn't know why, but I had to have it.

"Can I have it back?"

Ignored.

"I can't remember where I've seen this before..."

"But can I have it back, please?"

"I should know..."

She turned and shuffled out of my room, with the polished white cube still clutched firmly in her left fist and the wrap, still existing, in her right.

"Why are you taking my stuff? I haven't done anything!" I shouted.

Leave the cube here and let me relive that fire blast again.

"Why would you assume it's 'your stuff'?"

"It's not yours either."

"It's just some creation of your father's. Not yours. It's going in the trash."

"Give it back."

I was being irrational. It was just some piece of shit invention by my piece of shit father. Why was I arguing so intently over it? Why did I care about his stuff?

I got out from under the desk and stood in front of Mum. "He left the desk to me. Everything inside it should be mine as well."

We locked eyes, and she slowly, grudgingly opened her hand. The cube lay in her palm, its smooth white surface shining even in the twilight of my room.

"If I find any more of his shit in here it's going out." She made a move as if to toss it, but suddenly squealed, dropping the cube hurriedly into my hand.

I caught the cube. "What're you doing?"

She switched on the lamp beside my bed, and I saw a horrible patch of flesh where the cube had been.

"It burnt me!" tears welled up in her eyes.

I saw the flames. The cube lit up.

"It's a stupid little cube."

"It's one of your father's inventions, they never did any good in this world! They only caused pain and problems!"

"Funny how you dropped in straight into my hands. You must really care about my wellbeing."

Pissed, she flounced off into the bathroom to try and treat her hand. I tried to hold the panic about to overflow in check. My whole body was drenched in a cold sweat. Again, virtually impossible since it was frigid winter both inside and outside. Slamming the cube down on my desk and turning off the lamp, I lay down on my bed, keeping a close, wary eye on my father's creepy little flammable cube and recuperating from the strange hallucination.

I had the cube. But the desire was still there, and I had no idea what I was supposed to want.