Fire

Got the plot from Zachary's essay for last year's trials. Was so bored I wrote it in a different way. Sorry Zach. :(

     She came into my life, a perfect symbol of fire, in a dazzling red dress swirling in clouds around her, burning my vision with her beauty, warming me up with her straightforward advances. Yes, she was the fire to my dull life.

     Her presence made me forget that I had a wife and two kids at home. The smoke from her fire had clouded my common sense. I already had a perfect job and a perfect life. She would definitely brighten things up further for me. I could only see the present, lighted up by her charming flame. The future was clouded by all the heat. The lack of clarity of the future seemed so exciting, so unexpected from my predictable life.

     Who would pass up on a chance like this? It all seemed so natural, so inevitable. A red-hot affair was in session. We would meet up every month or so in a secluded hotel, me getting comforted by her never ending supply of warmth. She was so sweet, so loving, and she never asked anything from me. I felt alive, living two lives at the same time: one as a responsible employee, husband and father, another as a carefree lover, feeling no guilt for cheating on his wife.

     I didn't know when, but one day, the fire just got too much for me. She got too much for me. Waves of conscience crashed over me and I started to miss a normal life. I missed being wholeheartedly there for my family. I wanted to feel like the clear-headed man I knew I was deep down inside, the man I was before I let fire burn him up. I wondered if it was too late to change back. So, I asked for a peaceful parting.

     Except fire couldn't be peaceful, could it? She threw a fit, destroying everything in the room with her red hot rage. I quietly observed the fire getting out of hand and left before I could get burn.

     Everything went back to the way it was. I threw myself into my work and family affairs. I gathered joy from the peace. I had enough of fire so I was reveling in the ever flowing, never changing stream of life.

     That is, until the day I got the call. The strangely calm voice of fire burned my ear. Who knew heat could travel through the phone? How could I expect to play with fire and leave unscratched?

     When I unlocked the door with trembling fingers, I already knew what to expect, but the scene still hit me senseless. I could see my wife and kids knocked out on the floor, bound tightly. She was standing over them, a lighter in her hand. The smell of kerosene in the air warned me that if she wanted to, she could really burn up everything in my life. How appropriate, I jeered at myself. I've always thought of her as fire, and now she's acting true to her nature.

     I didn't know what to do. I was struck dumb. One could never reason with fire, and I couldn't find my tongue anyway. Apparently she had no problem finding hers. The menacing glint in her eyes coupled with her threats were more than enough to get cold fear to grip my heart in a merciless grasp.

     Her hard words burned through the fog in my brain. Her fire was contagious. It burned through the icy cold terror. I grabbed the letter opener off the table beside me and, without having a clear idea why, I ran towards her and pushed the blade into her chest. The lighter dropped from her shock at my reaction and she collapsed onto the ground soon after.

     Ah, warmth. I looked at the red blood, still warm from her body, splattered on my hand. It seemed like a reminiscence of the heat brought on by the woman who was so alive with the fire burning inside her. Staring at the dripping red liquid, I knew I didn’t kill her, but I hoped that the fire would exist no more.