Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!swrinde!cs.utexas.edu!news.sprintlink.net!gryphon.phoenix.net!news From: lsimon@phoenix.phoenix.net (the simon) Newsgroups: talk.bizarre Subject: Heart of the Flame Date: 11 Apr 1995 21:56:13 GMT Organization: CTN Message-ID: <3mettu$9g5@gryphon.phoenix.net> So close, and yet so far. He wanted so badly to be with her. He had seen her grow, from that first day where he watched a baby girl smile and laugh at the dancing candle flame on her first birthday cake. "Make a wish, Amy," said her parents. Amy smiled, and her eyes twinkled with the light from the flame. He looked deeply into her eyes and felt himself grow warmer. He called for her attention by dancing and jumping on the candle, and he watched his reflection in Amy's eyes. He hissed with surprise as Amy's parents blew him out. Over the years, he caught glimpses of her whenever he could. Birthdays, nights by the fireplace, campfire outings, and even from the hazy tips of cigarettes. He couldn't stand to be without the sight of Amy, and he roamed from flame to flame desperate for a view of his one true love. But the closer she came, the more frightened he became of hurting Amy. He shied away from her touch, and Amy never suffered a burn in her young life. With gentle pops and crackles, he would lull her to sleep and watch her throughout the night. --- This night, he was watching her from a candle in a restaurant. An exquisite meal; he had danced among the flames of the oven which had cooked it and savored the aromas. A hand reached out to her hand, and it opened to reveal a ring in a jeweler's box. The flame sparked with anger. Amy loved another! Why hadn't he seen this coming? He wept with tears of wax over the remains of the dinner as the two young lovers left. The life of a lonely flame, he waited for the candle to end and he drifted off to sleep. --- He avoided seeing her for the next few months, spending his time on the flames of the sun and in the heart of volcanoes. But there was no forgetting Amy, and he spotted her here and there. Others of his kind laughed at his sadness, telling him to forget the mortal and instead to revel in the heat and destruction of their kind. He sighed, and ran with them through the forests and fields. They even stalked the houses of the foolish and careless, teaching match-happy children their last painful lessons before searing them alive. He forgot his sorrow, and eventually he revelled in the wanton destruction his kind has always delighted itself in before mankind had fooled itself into thinking it could control the flames. --- After many years, they came to a house that he thought looked familiar. >From the fireplace, he could see the face of his beloved Amy. But there was something wrong. Amy was asleep, lying on the floor. He caught the smell of natural gas, a simple industrial blend with bland flavor. "Almost time," said his friends. He screamed. There could be no way he'd allow his Amy to feel the pain of his heat. He searched frantically for a way to wake her, but there wasn't anywhere but the fireplace where he could go. He called out to the electrical sparks, and one answered him. He told the spark about his beloved Amy, and he quickly told it of his undying love for her. The spark said he would do what he could, even if sparks and natural gas aren't the best of friends. The spark ran to the garage and danced, opening the garage door swifty. It called out to the flame, worried that the garage door opener would trigger the gas. But when the door finally stopped, there was no explosion and air rushed in to slowly dissipate the gas. The telephone rang, and both he and the spark screamed at the flash of light. --- He listened as he heard the minister tell the gathering of his Amy's goodness. And there was a message, a little poem she had written about the way the flames danced for her on the birthday cakes of her youth, and how it always made her happy. The man, the one who he had been so angry at many years ago, he was older now, with grey throughout his hair and a young child at each hand. Those children had grown up marvelling at the way the fired danced on the candles for their mother. He told his brothers to stand back. "If there is anyone that should do this, it is me," he said. "I have felt her pain." He watched as the minister closed his book and went over to the wall with the controls. As Amy's coffin drew nearer, the flames popped and crackled with a sound that one could describe as faint weeping. -- the / CTN lsimon@phoenix.phoenix.net simon / http://www.phoenix.net/~lsimon/