Burn, I love to Burn. A story about a child, fire, some visions, farms, buildings, horses and a lot of people.
A boy was born, he cried one cry, he was small, too small, and he fit into a cup.
The mother looked and, she did not smile.
Chapter 1 - The Beginning
I: The Kid
From my beginning, I have been called a "bad" kid, I often wondered why.
Slowly as I aged, I became to know that why, on my birthday, My brother died
On my birthday, One of my two sisters died, I was born on the 25th
week of my birth, Language seemed impossible for me to recognize, I had
Speech difficulties, I am writing this now from the new world, and I wonder
about how I came to at last be able to talk, I have been called retarted,
and many other things, I seemed to have no abilities at all, I could not
speak, I could not solve simple arithmetic, I could not draw, nor could
I play Music, I could not understand any book unless it was a book of Images,
I was useless, I could not cook, I cut off my right-handed index while trying
to cut an onion, People speech to me was just a flowing amount of noise,
and only noise, however, I had one thing I could not explain to most: I always
saw Images, and they were always around Red, I always did, they never stopped,
They always manifested themselves in front of my eyes, during sleep, I was aware
of them, They always formed, they were like Eclipses of reds, sometimes blue
and green had some way, but Red always won, It was Dark Red and Light Red,
I could never explain them, nor draw them, nor anything, for even when I
finally had a grasp of language, I found no one to describe to, and here
I am describing it to you, I will talk to you about everything, about the
beginning, the reds, the fires, the new world, and You.
II: The Horses
My parents found I was useless in every way, therefore, They were to make me sleep
with the horses at the stable, and they found I could drink they taught me somehow
to put a bowl full of water in front of the horses, that they would drink, I spent
months and months that way, every day at sunrise, My sister would come, wearing
those transparent clothes of her, she was blonde, she was somewhere between skinny
and not-so much, She was not average how, Because I truly do not know what averages
are, I never grasped the concept, How come all these people out there can have
a common factor? Why even should they? Why should we try to identify it? Patterns
for me where a paradox, uncertain, and too abstract to grasp. She came with wind,
She often squinted her eyes, and put a bowl of water in front of me, a loaf of bread,
and some milk; My parents did not hate me, They loved me, but they found that I would
never repay back.
The days passed, the sights of the brown horses, the yellow haystacks, and the lodgings of wood
that the stable was made of, the days passed, I always found nothing to do except
to stare at the images I see, for some reasons, sometimes they made me laugh,
sometimes I cried, although what was in front of me was barely sights of things, circles,
triangles, and squares, reds, blacks, blues, and greens; What was so special about
them? I do not know, I remember some days, where Rain came in, and poured between
the lodgings of wood, I would turn my back to it, block my eyes with hands and
the colors poured, wonderfully.
One day, Everything changed, the last few days were not normal for me, Everything else
was, but I was not, I was starting to have the ability to control my images, suddenly
I started being able to "hear" sounds actually, to separate those sounds of horses,
of water, of everything, how? I began to attach every sound to a degree of the colors
I perceive, My sister first noticed this, and I can assure you she was on her way
to tell more, she was just waiting to verify It wasn't he imagination that made such
sounds come out of my mouth.
One that one day, A series of unexpected events happened, Father was coming to get the
finished bowls as sister was sick, he did so, smoking, he thought I was asleep and I was
so, but as I told you before, Images always come to my head, asleep I am or not,
and when I learnt to associate images with sounds, They would still come while I was asleep.
What happened was this, Father got out of the stable, threw what he was smoking in it,
and the burning started, Horses made such huge sounds that huge circles of Green were coming to my head, I
opened my eyes, I found a vision, a very large vision, It was amazing, I was fascinated,
It was those things I kept dreaming about, yes, Yes, I loved that experience, What I saw
was unlike anything I've ever seen before, I saw those reds who danced, those walking
visions, I opened my eyes to its full extent, I began to laugh, I laughed so loud, so loud,
I for the first time laughed, What are the visions? I could not notice them, why? They overlapped
What was Real, the Images perfectly fit together, Fire came around me, burning all the haystack I
used to sleep on, It formed a circle, I realized one thing: Fire was me, I was fire. It would not even come
a step closer to me, with every laugh it grew, I was God himself, I was everything, I was fire, I
was the one who could burn everything, I love to Burn! I love to Burn! I cried, by laughing.
The stable was burnt, the house was, the crops were, Father was dead, Mother was dead,
Sister was not there, she was somewhere I did not remember back then, and I walked, The fire following me,
Going off more and more, but my visions were still there, and It still burnt, and It would
END OF CHAPTER ONE