It was the smoke that woke me. The fire was nearly out when I went to bed, but now the air in the room was thick and hazy. I rushed to the window and forced it open. My lungs protested the temperature change, and I began coughing violently.
After a few minutes, the room cleared and I turned my attention to the fireplace. I selected a few pieces of wood and began to rebuild. The logs sparked quickly, but the smoke was traveling in the wrong direction. Instead of forming an upward column, the fumes began pouring into the room once again. I seized the shovel and heaped ash to smother the flame.
I knew that the flue was open, so I grabbed a poker and forced the sharp end up the chimney. It hit something. I waved the poker around, but whatever it was didn’t budge. I could tell that it was different than the surrounding brick, and my first thought was that a bird must have fallen in from the roof. But it felt too big and too solid to be a bird. I retracted the poker. I needed to get a look at this thing. I picked up my phone.
The first photo was too dark to see anything. I adjusted the camera settings. The second photo showed the outline of something. It took my brain some time to figure out that I was looking at the bottom of a boot. Realization hit me and an intense feeling of horror filled my stomach. Another photo confirmed it: two boots. I turned my head and looked at the decorated tree in the corner. I could feel panic start to rise in my chest.
Without a robe or slippers, I dashed outside. I was nearly in the street before I turned and looked up at the roof. All eight were there, and they looked as though they’d been waiting a long time. There could be no doubt now about what was trapped in my chimney.
CRAFTING VISUAL NARRATIVES THAT INSPIRE 