Incinerated

A Story by Avalin

A short story about a boy, a girl, and the dangerous spark between them.

There she stood, making the decision that should define at least the next two years of her life. With his curly hair and his breathtaking brown eyes he managed to tame her fire, and she succumbed to be a warming candlelight. She could shine as bright as before, but no longer spread and cause damage around her. It was a safe position that both he and she would enjoy.

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He placed her inside by a wooden table that was painted neatly with a shade of white. She lit up the room in a cozy reddish hue as she throned herself on her candlestick, positioned right in the center of the table. He would play around with her, his fingers would dance in her flame, running up and down her warmest spot. Thriving in this attention she would sway to his movement, and mirror it with a passionate twist. They would dance like this for hours, even days at a time.

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As time went by, his fascination for her warmth never subsided. Their dance would follow a pace well-known to both of them. He held her close with tenderness, cared for her to keep her heat from diminishing. Never did he seem to worry about the dangers of holding her close.

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It became clear, as they were engaging in their usual endeavors, that the candlestick was noticeably shorter. Candle wax was dripping into different shapes looking suspiciously like tears. Initially the shapes were sliding downwards in a light motion by the warmth from her core, but they turned into cold, sturdy and almost immovable bumps as they slid out of her range. He would clean up her mess, leaving the table spotless so her glow would be without interference.

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Despite his endless efforts, she would burn a little less bright day by day. The wax continued to appear with more consistency, dribbling down from her like a vulnerable little stream, until she had created a puddle shaped like a crater, cold and sturdy enough for her to hide herself in it. He would take her out to see the sun, as he hoped she could rekindle her fierce inspiration from the brightest star. Their dance became almost mechanical, she knew the moves step by step.

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One day, the flame was gone. She was nowhere to be seen. He sat next to the table where he used to keep her. The tip of the candle pointed downwards while a tiny fume of smoke was elevating towards the sky, leaving only traces of where she used to be. The room once bright from her spirit, was dark and smelled like soot. His brown eyes had lost their light, and his skin was red and bristling with burn marks.