Ring of Fire

Have you ever been so fascinated by something that it consumes you? That you forget everything else about existance?
Blaze has such a fascination. She thinks it will lead her to bliss, to perfection. But will it instead lead to her demise..?

Prologue - Blaze

They called me Blaze. Well, that's a lie. Because they barely spoke to me. But I'd have liked them to call me Blaze.

The meadow was my sanctuary. The stars were twinkling that night. Winking at me from all that distance away. I remember feeling like I wanted to sink into the ground, into the earth's hot core, where reality would cease to exist.

I remember the desire...

If you asked me to explain it, I don't think I could. Or rather, I don't think I'd want to. Because then you'd understand. And maybe you'd meet the same kind of end that I did.

There was always some kind of mystery about what had become of my parents. I mean, they were charred to death - that's not the mysterious bit. Obviously the fire drove their spirits out of their bodies and then ate through their flesh, stripped their bones clean. But no such bones could ever be found. At least, none that I've ever heard tell of.

Then again, it's been a while since I was in contact with the human race.

I remember the heat. I must have been around 3 I guess. (I've lost count of human years - very second feels like a year to me now.) I remember the seering sensation that burst through my clothes as though they were tissue paper. And then started to work on my skin, chipping away at every cell, consuming every fibre. I don't know who rescued me, or how. I despise them.

You would think having a blaze like this unleash intself upon your delicate flesh would be so excrutiating that I would barely want to relive it; but I have. I relived it every night of my natural life, I relived it as the most wonderfully consuming dream ever to seep across a human mind.

When kids were smoking, I was fingering a match. I didn't need some stupid white stick in my mouth to get a buzz. I just needed to swipe the match on something rough, and watch life burst at my fingertips with a ripping sound. It was alive. Fire was as alive as anything. More alive than me.

I'd stroke my arms slowly with the trickling flame, the heat melting away the sting of reality.

It was perfect. It was bliss. It was a touch of Death, and I knew it. But it was beautiful.

The End

12 comments about this story Feed