The Moth and The Flame

A short story comprised of two parts

The Girl and the Flame

        The girl stood at the precipice. Ready to jump, ready to fall. The rocky cliff face stretched infinitely beneath her. The sadness soaked landscape reached its monochromatic gray arms around her fragile body. Enveloping her. Suffocating her.

         She scanned the hopeless horizon one last time; searching for anything to tell her to stay. Her glassy eyes found nothing. Her feet shuffled inexorably forward. When lo! A quiver of light in the distance! A mere pinprick amongst the despair stained sky, and yet it pulsed with life.

         The girl turned from the brink. She let the chasm of darkness remain untouched.

         Mesmerized by this quasar of hope, she limped ever closer. As she approached, she found it was a fire. Small, reasonable, no roaring blaze. As she watched the fire glow red and orange from behind a dull black rock, she longed to feel its warmth. To taste its color.

          Instinct told her it was dangerous. That it would hurt. So for a time she hid. Watched it dance and glow from a distance. But one day, her desire to know the fire overpowered her fear. Curiosity drove her forward.

           But she was cautious. She stood only at the fringes of the light. Her eyes adjusted day by day and soon a streak of blue had shot across her endless slate sky. She was content.

           But soon she again hungered for more. Creeping closer, she could now smell the acrid smoke. Puffs of white appeared overhead, bits of cotton thrown into the sky. Yet she still could not feel the warmth.
 
            As each day passed, she moved slowly closer. Till one day, she felt the exquisite heat. Kneeling by the fire, she warmed her hands. Thawing from the inside out, she was happy. Days, weeks, months went by and the fire grew bigger. Accustomed to the wild flames, the girl feared not. Feeling safe in its warm embrace.

            Though the flames grew taller and wider, the girl sat by.
            Though the flames no longer guttered in the wind, the girl sat by.
            Though the flames pulsed blue with heat, the girl sat by.

            For though the flames were destructive, the girl loved the fire. One day, the flames got so tall and so wide they licked at the girl's arms and legs. Recoiling in pain and fear, the girl once again limped. Limped back to her shelter of stone. But for the first time, she saw the stone. Not dull and black as had been before, but a rich deep purple, shining and glittering in the firelight.

            But as the days wore on without the fire, the girl began to shiver; to miss the comfortable warmth. And soon she again got close to the fire. Feeling again its beauty and magic. But the girl hadn't learned.

             And when the fire again grew tall, she inched ever closer. The girl was burned, but this time she didn't run. She allowed the flames to slowly caress her, convincing herself that searing heat was better than the numbness she had felt her whole life.

             But soon the pain was too much for the girl to bear. And though she loved the fire, she turned from it. Laying wearily against her amethyst asylum, she gazed across her landscape yet again.

             The Sun, a blazing yellow-orange disc was settling down behind purple peaks. The cerulean heavens above were dyed pink and orange and red and purple, while in the east, stars were arraying themselves like cosmic jewelery.

             The girl examined her scars. Though she loved the fire, she could no longer allow herself to sit near it. And though the fire left her with painful reminders, she would always be grateful he let her taste his colors.