Embers from fire

this is a second perspective to my embers short story piece. this is from the perspective of the fire for those who cannot guess immediately hehe

            I reach into the sky, tasting the air, taking it all in. My tongue flicks out, the air is mine. I cannot reach far, but I am fine here, consuming Beauty. Our children soar ever higher before raining around us.

            Our scent combined in this blazing passion is not that of Beauty's adorning roses, but instead is that of new life at a price only life can pay. I paint her across the veil of stars. Her body bare inside me, mine to hold into mortality's eternity. I dance across her flesh, I kiss her gently, for she is my candle and I her flame.

            My voice crackles and breaks as I whisper my love.

            Sweet Beauty, thy embrace is unlike any I could ever long for...

            I hear the air stir aside my Beauty and myself. A hollow shell of a man stands, unmoving, gazing; a statuesque shell.

            “Dearest Ambelina, why? Why were you the price for love? You lay so close, but you are so far beyond my reach. I cannot hold you; I cannot smell the perfume of your skin. I can only watch you burn.” He says. His face a mask, his voice holding all the world's emotion with each syllable.

            Foolish man! You wish to hold my Beauty? Then join us, I insist!

            I grab for him, but he is beyond my reach. I try, again and again, my rage fueling the futility. He does not move, he does not notice me. My fury goes unseen; how I yearn his end! He who longs for mine and mine alone deserves to know the price that only life can pay. How I would gladly give him such justice!

            He stands there, he watches my Beauty with such sin-filled eyes. He does not cry as the hours pass, as Beauty and I become one and die, locked together in eternal passion. He just stands, unmoving; a perpetual statue. His strength amazes me, but I cannot forgive him. He yearns my love, he longs for that which is mine and mine alone. His passion is nothing in sight of mine. He will not win, he will never win.

            I stay watching him as myself and my Beauty are consumed. The everlasting night hovers around us, and still he stands. In the hours that pass, my Beauty becomes no more than ash, and I falter, becoming as a wisp. Still he stands. No matter my anger at him, I fall away, I die. He stands there, and I end...

Author's Note

there are some grammar errors, such as fragments. done on purpose, i promise.

Reviews

[Desert Dreamer]

Great personification of fire, of the desire to burn and destroy. I like the image of beauty turned to ash, and the mystery of the woman burning. Very thought provoking writing.