Fighting Fire With Fire

A girl falls into the flames. Her whole body burning, and she escapes unscathed. Now leading a half life, she loves, loses and gains but is little more than a ghost. The element of fire took her life, it's too late for her. But not for the young boy who haunts her dreams.

The pain was insane. My body burnt like the sun and no one would come to help. They could I knew they could but they wouldn't. I knew they wouldn't. Any other person would have given in by now, I won't. Not until my heart stops beating. I wonder what my parents will do when they find out, cry, take the company that sold us the fireplace to court. I don't know, don't really care so long as they become happy again. So long as they can fall in love again. I don't believe in love, not any more. Love is what pushed me into a fireplace. Love is a powerful, passionate thing. But so is hate.

The pain is receding. I must be nearly dead. I don't want to fight any more. I just want to slip away. But it's too late. I've fought too long and too hard. I'm beginning to win the fight for my life. Or what is left of it. I can feel my body still burning but it's less of a shock than at first. My body falls away beneath me. This is it. I think. Will I go to heaven or hell? How long will I be left waiting?

But I don't rise or fall, I don't do anything. I just lie there as the fire consumes the rest of my house. No more pain or fear just, not peace but relaxation. Not happiness but content. I stand, moving out from under the bricks that had pinned me to the floor. I walk through the shattered window and stare at the people staring through me. I don't understand but I can't bear to stay here. I run away. I won't look for my parents, there's no point. With my body gone, and yes it is gone. They won't see me, I can feel it. I know it. Like how I automatically know that the sun is in the sky, or that my parents, loved me. Or cared, I don't believe in love any more. I have to remember that.

I run and keep on running. My life is gone or left behind. I'm running so hard now, the breeze cooling my burnt body. I can't stop, not for anything. Not even for a huge wall looming ahead. I smack hard against it, then sink through. My face should take the worst of it but it doesn't. I find my self in the living room of a huge house. It seems deserted but for the fresh flowers on the floor. A strange place to put flowers, but with no table or chairs or anything else, I suppose there is no better place.

The door swings open and a young boy with a faded body walks in. He walks right through me, and then bends down to the flowers. I don't know why but I'm drawn to him. Quietly I call out but he doesn't even acknowledge my voice. He stands and turns around and looks straight through me with wide blue eyes. His body has burn marks similar to mine. I do have a body don't I? I must if I can speak and, see my body. I look away from the charred but already fading burns, and turn my gaze back to the boy. He fades slowly away. Will that happen to me or did I dream him up? Maybe I am dreaming.

Maybe I'll wake up and nothing will have happened. Maybe I wasn't tripped up and left to burn. Maybe he didn't trick me. But I know he did. I know that I've- that I've died. And been saved or rescued. I think that it was some trick or accident of nature. Who knows why I was saved, but I wish I wasn't. I wish that it had never happened to me. That even if I had died I hadn't been saved. I don't want to be on my own when no-one can see me, or hear me. Or love, no care. Always care. Never love it isn't real anymore.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to stay sane anymore. I start with the most simple and easy thing. My name is Marie Clare Swindon. I am fourteen years old and I have died and been saved. I am invisible and can walk through solid objects.

The End

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