Flame

The original was a submission for an English class...

The whole affair began with just that- an affair.

Air and Match were deeply in love.  Air, the mother of many things, had existed since Match's creation, had even helped raise Wood, Match's mother, but he did not care.  Match was so in love with the beautiful Air, with her gentleness and passivity, that he could not imagine a life without her.  But Flint, the tiny ugly thing that lived nearby Match, could not stand it.  Flint loved Match just as deeply as Air did, and it tore her apart that he love Air so deeply but did not seem to even notice her.

"Air!" Flint would whisper to herself angrily, for Air was always nearby.  "Who does she think she is seducing Match like that?  Harlot!  And she's already got a child, Wind, too!"

Always angry for the love she did not possess, Flint hatched a plan.  One day she called for Match to come by her, and without warning leapt upon him.  Match loved Air and not Flint, but he was young and naive in the world where Air and Flint were ancient, and he could not resist even ugly Flint's advances.  Between the two they conceived a spark, a tiny little babe they called Flame, and so ashamed that he made a child with another woman, Match grabbed Flame and ran from Flint.  And Air, always gentle and passive, agreed to help Match nurture the little spark into a roaring fire, although she did not know it would eventually kill Match.

And kill Match it did.  As the tiny spark grew into Flame, the cannibalistic child began to consume his father.  As his last dying act, Match went to the lantern that sat in the distance.  Protected from the world by the great dome of glass, the lantern would safely hold Flame as he grew and grew, and perhaps protect the rest of the world from this temperamental child.  When Match was consumed completely by Flame, he died, leaving Flame alone in the lantern.  Air was always there for him, of course, and from time to time Wind would sneak into the lantern to play with Flame, but it pained Air to see her son play with this illegitimate child of her lover, so she forbade it.  For a long time Flame was alone.

That was, of course, until the lantern fell and shattered on the ground.

It was the first time since conception that Flame had ever been out of the glass cage that had defined his life; the first time had had left the boundaries of the little soot-covered world that constricted his freedom.  For the entirety of his life, Flame had only played while within the glass walls, occasionally daring to touch the sooty surfaces to make sure they had not vanished when he wasn't paying attention.  But the glass had always been there, a limit on how far Flame could go.  And thus Flame was surrounded by the glass lantern globe, an inescapable prison but also a secure home.

When the lantern fell from the table, the tumble frightened Flame.  He had never known movement outside of his own little dance, never experienced anything outside of the glass save for the dim image of a rough table and the sparse company of Air and Wind.  The table was Wood, who was almost as old as Air but not quite, and who Flame watched from afar but was never able to approach.  When the lantern fell, taking Flame away from Wood, the only thing outside of his cage he had ever known, Flame was scared.  He did not know what would happen, did not know what he would find, especially when the lantern finally hit the floor.  Flame was released from his prison in a flurry of sparks and silver-glass confetti.

Flame curled back into himself, taking refuge in the embers of his core, dimming and not daring to glow too brightly.  A variety of sensations assaulted him, and for the first time he could feel the complete world around him.  He felt Wind again, the gentle tugging that could be encouraging but also dangerous.  Wind was like Flame, no more than a child when compared to older things in the world, and Wind had the temper of a child too.  Sometimes Wind was gentle, a treasured friend, but other times Wind could become violent, threatening to blow Flame out with a single gust.  Along with Wind, Flame felt Air, who birthed Wind and fed Flame, Air who was calm and could not be violent.  Air was the mother, watching Wind and Flame and giving her violent children everything they needed to grow, but only interceding when they fought.  Air was the mother of many things, the one keeping all alive, so she would never allow a fight between her children, even if Flame was not her own.

And, to his amazement, Flame also felt Wood!  Wood was there too, not just part of the table but part of the floor as well.  In fact, Wood was all around.  Flame was happy, for he worried he would never see Wood again once he fell from the table.  But Wood was here, and Flame could finally touch Wood, the grandmother and silent friend he had never known!

Flame reached out, growing bigger and brighter, to touch Wood.  Wood crackled beneath Flame's touch, shrinking back from the beast that killed her son, and turned dark.  Flame drew back too, not knowing why Wood would crackle at him.

"Can I touch you?" Flame asked, tentatively.  Wood merely crackled.

"Please?" Flame asked again, glowing even brighter.  Wood only crackled.

"But now we can play together!" Flame cried, growing frustrated.  "We've never been able to play together because of the glass, but now you don't want to play!  Why can't we play?"

Wood crackled.

Flame was furious.  All his life all Flame had known outside of his glass globe was Wood, Air and Wind.  And now that Flame was free, all Flame wanted to feel was Wood, that silent friend.  Yet Wood...Wood dared to just crackle at Flame!  To laugh at and mock Flame!  Finally Flame was free and all this feeble old woman would do was crackle?

Well, Flame was going to touch Wood whether Wood liked it or not!  With that in mind, Flame used Wind to move him and Air to feed him.  Wind didn't want to play this game, and Air had no desire to be used, but Flame grabbed at them greedily.  Flame spread, touching Wood wherever his many orange dingers could reach, making Wood brightened and glow before finally becoming black and ugly.  This encouraged the angry Flame, who now just wanted to hurt Wood, so Flame continued, touching Wood wherever he could reach and growing bigger and brighter with each touch.

Wood crackled, until there was no more Wood to crackle.  All at once Flame was out in the open, the charred black remains of his grandmother the only unsteady place for Flame to perch.  But Grass, who had surrounded the house of Wood, had become allies with Flame's most hated enemy, Rain, so Flame could not touch Grass and thus had nowhere to go.  Wind, angry for being forced into a game he didn't want to play, turned against Flame.  Air, for once, did not interfere; she was sad Flame turned out this way, but she mourned the death of her good friend Wood.  She loved the child of her lover, but it was obvious that Flame was too much like his real mother.  Flame tried to take refuge in the remains of Wood, but Wood was nothing more than ash now.  Ash didn't crackle, but Ash could not protect Flame.  Flame, now frightened, tried to get smaller and smaller, to curl up in a ball against Wind.  But all it took was one good gust, and Flame was gone.

Feeling the burn, are you?
Eve