“He watches the fire flicker on and off. His finger controlling the life of it. The lighter barely the size of his palm holding the life source of something that could burn everything he’s ever known to the ground.
His fingers toying with the push button, teasing the flame, daring it to get higher, daring it to live. He watches it spring up and light up the dark of his room.
The tip of his thumb aching from holding on to the push button for so long. The flesh slightly charred from the stray sparks and flames slightly lapping at him, begging him to let the flame live.
He watches the first, lonesome sparks and the flame that followed soon after devouring the oxygen in the air. He watches it stop climbing and get dragged back down to where it is held until he lets go. He watches the flame dance to the rhythm his hands set, he watches it try and grab onto any other source, any other way for it to grow.
He sits on the floor of his room, covered in the dark, drowning in the shadows of his past, the outlines of his future and the state of his present. Surrounded by the glimmer and dull of life.
He presses down on the push button again, the fire springs to life, the monsters back away. He stares at the flame, waiting for it to evolve into an inferno. The flame points away from him, out the door and into the world, out of his mind, where he is trapped, where we all are trapped for at least some time.
He tips his head as if confused by it, it still points away, growing by the second as if teasing him now. he looks up at the door, the closed door that somehow scares him more than the flame in his hand. He looks at the flame again, still climbing, still waiting to escape.
He closes his eyes, the flame was mocking him, daring him to climb, daring him to live, daring him to become the inferno. The light is gone and suddenly he’s in darkness again with the silhouettes of life as his only company.
It flickers on again but this time barely alive. The gas container is almost empty, there isn’t much time left for the flame unless it was to escape. As he watches the flame die, he reaches out and grabs for something.
He is nowhere to be seen but the fire is now growing, living not in the shackles it was put in but on a new life source. The enclosure lights up in flames and burns down along with the spark.
The last thing seen before pure destruction ensues is the boy standing at the door, ready to become his own inferno.”

 

-playing with the flame is easy but to let it escape is the challenge.

//Spilled Inks//

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