Let It Burn
Matches.
Come on, Val. Just drop the match. You know you want to.
The little voice in her head was just so loud, and lately it had been clamoring around, taunting. Restless. Waiting for relief.
She set the lit match to a fluffy dandelion, and watched it flame up. The match in her hand burned down until it scorched her fingers and she dropped it, letting out a little squeal. It hurt, but she liked it.
A few more dandelions met their end, and a little pile of matches was stacking up next to her feet.
A couple dandelions? That’s the best you can do?
She ignored the annoying voice and lit another match. The flame on this one brought down a particularly tall white-flowered weed. The stem crackled all the way down, until it sizzled out on the wet, dewy grass.
Just light a bunch of them, drop them in some tall grass, and run like hell.
The ground was damp from rain the night before, but there was plenty of field grass everywhere, already dried out. She glanced over at a patch of it and started to chew on her lip.
It’s just one little field. It’s not gonna hurt anybody. Come on, Val. What, are you scared? Are you a little scaredy-cat?
“I am not,” she mumbled.
The nearest form of civilization was fifteen miles away back in town. There was nobody around to see what she was doing, to catch her and tell her to stop.
She lumbered up to her feet and made her way over to the tall field grass. It was swaying in the slight breeze, calling out to her. Mocking her, like she didn’t have the guts.
“I am not scared,” she said, a little louder this time.
She lit four matches at once, and dropped them in the grass. A couple more lit ones went into a different patch, another set of four in a foot or two away from that one. It took a few seconds for them to take, but suddenly there were flames flaring up everywhere. She smiled, the heat from the fire hitting her legs.
It was beautiful.
When the fire started to reach out to her, climbing closer, she stepped back with her near-empty box of matches and grinned.
Good job, Val. Good job.
Her flip-flops were by a bush, she grabbed them, and walked back to the dirt road where her beater car was parked. She shuffled back into her shoes before stepping onto the road. The hood of the car creaked loudly when she climbed onto it.
She settled in to watch the show, and let it burn.
The little voice in her head was just so loud, and lately it had been clamoring around, taunting. Restless. Waiting for relief.
She set the lit match to a fluffy dandelion, and watched it flame up. The match in her hand burned down until it scorched her fingers and she dropped it, letting out a little squeal. It hurt, but she liked it.
A few more dandelions met their end, and a little pile of matches was stacking up next to her feet.
A couple dandelions? That’s the best you can do?
She ignored the annoying voice and lit another match. The flame on this one brought down a particularly tall white-flowered weed. The stem crackled all the way down, until it sizzled out on the wet, dewy grass.
Just light a bunch of them, drop them in some tall grass, and run like hell.
The ground was damp from rain the night before, but there was plenty of field grass everywhere, already dried out. She glanced over at a patch of it and started to chew on her lip.
It’s just one little field. It’s not gonna hurt anybody. Come on, Val. What, are you scared? Are you a little scaredy-cat?
“I am not,” she mumbled.
The nearest form of civilization was fifteen miles away back in town. There was nobody around to see what she was doing, to catch her and tell her to stop.
She lumbered up to her feet and made her way over to the tall field grass. It was swaying in the slight breeze, calling out to her. Mocking her, like she didn’t have the guts.
“I am not scared,” she said, a little louder this time.
She lit four matches at once, and dropped them in the grass. A couple more lit ones went into a different patch, another set of four in a foot or two away from that one. It took a few seconds for them to take, but suddenly there were flames flaring up everywhere. She smiled, the heat from the fire hitting her legs.
It was beautiful.
When the fire started to reach out to her, climbing closer, she stepped back with her near-empty box of matches and grinned.
Good job, Val. Good job.
Her flip-flops were by a bush, she grabbed them, and walked back to the dirt road where her beater car was parked. She shuffled back into her shoes before stepping onto the road. The hood of the car creaked loudly when she climbed onto it.
She settled in to watch the show, and let it burn.
♠ ♠ ♠
I liked this. I think.Thoughts?
-Beki