Flames lick the stale air as smoke billows away like crows in flight. My eyes watch the fire fingers reach out higher and higher as I sit cross legged and content under the veil of the tenebrosity. My body was soaked and shivering in the flashing light. Embers pollute the air as the flames twist and turn like dancers on a wooden stage, I see stories in them, the meek beginning growing to a crescendo of flashing teeth and falling towers. The audience is still as the curtain of inferno rises. Our hero capers across the stage twirling their way around this spurious world as a newborn babe. Slowly, the dragon emerges from the depths, his breath emits foreign embers from a blackened heart, but our hero stands their ground. Growing mighty and fearless they dance together, as enemies, as lovers, as friends. The battle rages while flame-filled towers cascade to the wooden ground. Hesitantly, the dragon subsides, leaving our hero to bask in the glory of a duel well won. As our hero winks to sleep I am hugged by darkness once again.

I loathe the light. Unchained and liberated from the destructive ways of humankind. We can use the flames as tools and stories, but never will we be able to domesticate fire, not really. It may trick into believing we have, but once the beast snarls its crackling teeth and runs with his glowing paws, that is when we must bow to the behemoth.

My soot masked fingers fumble with the feeble matches until one ignites. I hold it up to my face and watch the teardrop spin on the wooden pedestal. I drop it onto our sleeping hero, beginning the dispute once again. I uncross my legs and kneel closer to the flames, my shaking frame still dripping, as I finally let the smell of gasoline burn my nose.