Page 53 of More Than Water
A small blue flame appears at the tip of the lighter when Foster clicks the button, and I’m struck with an idea.
“Wait,” I demand. “Can we shut off the lights for this one?”
“Sure.” He sets down the lighter and flicks the switch, plunging the room into relative darkness, and then he ignites the piercing blue flame again. “Ready?”
Peering through the camera, I prepare for the impending wonderment. “I’m not sure, but let’s do it.”
The crinkling sound of the fireworks being lit spurs into the silence. Into the frame, bright white shards spread from the tips of the sparklers, subdued for just an instant, as they are plummeted into the glass tube. Then, a violent stream of apricot and umber fill the cylinder from top to bottom, filling the encased fluid.
As the sparklers continue to burn, the flame rises higher upon itself, and the fingers of heat lick their way to the top, bursting beyond the water’s surface. The fire is breaking free, trying to grow and thrive in a place it’s meant to reside, searching to gain its full potential outside of the stifling wetness, gasping for air beyond the suffocation.
The fire grows so robust and fierce, and the angry heat causes the water to boil, creating a fury of passion.
It’s intense, powerful in a way unlike the other experiments.
Suddenly, a jagged horizontal line severs through the upper third of the glass, breaking it into two.
For a moment, the flame expands into the air, a wafting surge of hope freeing itself from the glass prison, and then it disappears.
My camera captures every moment until the sparkler dims in the murky water, just like the ones before it.
“Wow,” I gasp, left in the darkness.
Foster flips the switch, illuminating the room once again. “See what I meant?”
“Yeah,” I sputter, overwhelmed. “Holy shit!”
He laughs.
I shake my head, still not totally comprehending what just occurred.
“Looks like this one is done,” he states, gathering the two broken pieces of glass from the split beaker.
Stepping around my equipment, I pull out a paper towel from the roll on the counter. “Let me help,” I say, wiping up the watery debris from the granite surface.
Together, we quickly clear the area and clean up the mess. For the most part, it was contained within each of the glasses, save for one.
“Do you think you got anything worth using?” Foster removes his apron and sets it on the counter next to the goggles.
“I’m sure I did.” I release the camera from the tripod. “Let’s take a look.”
Rounding the counter, Foster peers over my shoulder as I scroll through the images I took over the last fifteen minutes. There are nearly two hundred digital frames, and even though I was the one taking the pictures, the collection marvels me.
Stills of bubbles, colors, and movement captured by the sophistication of the high-speed lens fill the viewing screen. The juxtaposition of light and water are beyond gorgeous, and the symmetry to poetry is a symphony in the making.
I’m breathless.
It’s more than water.
It’s more than fire.
It’s life surviving and flourishing where it shouldn’t, where it couldn’t.
It’s almost…a miracle.
“That’s what it looks like through a camera?” he asks, his warm breath tickling my ear.
“Pretty amazing, huh?”