From Ashes to Embers

Like embers burning away to ash. That was how he saw life. Much like a brilliant flame it would start with a bright spark, before slowly whittling away into nothingness. It was a deeply saddening perspective, yet he felt strangely serene as he watched the flame flickering in front of him, so close that it could well engulf him. Could. But it wouldn't. This little, pitiful flame didn't have the strength for such a feat. It was barely surviving, clinging futilely at the tiny stem connected to the wax that sustained it, which would inevitably run dry.

It was amazing that he could be so thoroughly entranced by such a simple flame. But when the alternative was a deep abyss that didn't even have the courtesy of staring back at him, this was the obvious choice. What he'd do when the candle finally burnt out though, he hadn't considered yet.

This relatively minor thought coaxed him to his feet, causing his body to ache and groan from the initial shift. There was a brief pang of regret from this discomfort, but the self pity did not last long enough to hinder him. He proceeded on into the gentle dark regardless. More or less make use of this dying light, he thought to himself.

His eyes narrowed; squinting in a fruitless attempt to make out anything the paltry amount of light might reveal to him. His efforts were in vain however, with his surroundings completely eluding him. Frustration was already starting to mount from his lack of progress, even if he had only begun wandering a few moments ago. He brought his feet down upon the ground with extra force added to each step, yet each stomp made no noise whatsoever. He was being rather childish, but with no one around him to judge him, he had no reason to care. That was his excuse.

So engrossed in this little outburst was he that he failed to keep track of his surroundings. Granted that he could be forgiven for this error due to how little he had stumbled upon up until this point, but because of this lack of foresight, he almost walked straight into the first thing he'd found withn this abyss.

He practically jumped out of his skin as he hastily came to a halt, coming close to tripping over his own feet. She had appeared as if from nowhere, emerging from the darkness directly in front him like a spectre. Emerging might have been the wrong word to describe her though, since she was as still as a stone statue. He watched with bated breath as she stood there, gaze cast downward, so still that he could barely notice her chest subtly rising and falling. With no sign of even the slightest reaction, he could only assume she hadn't seen his previous behaviour, to which he breathed a sigh of relief.

New found courage helped him loosen up a little and raise his free hand to wave to her while the other clutched his candle tightly, a gentle smile gracing his lips. But just as she hadn't bat an eyelash to their initial encounter, she seemed to completely ignore his greeting as well, causing his brow to furrow. He stepped closer, this time waving his hand directly in front of her face so there was no way she could miss it. But still, nothing.

He could feel his frustration building once again. But as his lips parted to vent his welling emotions, he froze, having finally noticed something critical that he'd missed until he had closed the distance again. His dying light now cast shadows across her face; helping him make out the troubled expression she wore, and the tears that rolled down her pale cheeks. The anger he felt vanished in an instant, a dull ache in his chest replacing it.

He was completely at a loss. His first instinct was to try and help her, but nothing he did drew her attention. Gently shaking her shoulders only resulted in her curly raven-toned hair swaying lightly with the rest of her petite frame, before she settled back into her meek stance. He found his gaze falling downward to mirror her, an overwhelming sense of powerlessness setting in.

His brown eyes fell to a candle, much like his own, clutched tightly to her chest with both hands. The key difference was that his held fire, and hers did not. He pondered on the significance of this, unable to shake the feeling that rekindling her flame might be the only way he could help her. He couldn't think of anything else he could do.

Instinctually he found his hand diving for his right pocket, fishing out a box of matches that he held with him. With haste, he struck the first match, and the fire burst to life. He stared at it in awe, admiring the way it danced in front of his eyes, as if it were relishing its brief existence. He brought it close to the lifeless wick of her candle, his focus bearing down solely on the brief connection shared. But the match inevitably died, and her candle did not catch alight.

Several burnt matchsticks soon lay scattered around him as he tried one after the other, fighting with such vigor that he didn't even notice how tense he had become, nor how his teeth were grinding together. He was down to his last matchstick. The last chance. A sudden wave of anxiety washed over him; fear that he would fail her. But he pressed on, repeating the process he had done over a dozen times now.

The last hope came to life, and burned out, just as its fallen brothers had. He could only stare, a horrible sense of loss sinking into the depth of his stomach from looking at her wick, which was charred black, and still devoid of flame. His emotions came rushing up all at once, overflowing like the rupture of a dam. He could feel a warm wetness on his face, rolling down his cheeks, the ache that had been in his chest the whole time intensifying to unbearable levels.

He tried to scream, but no noise would escape him. His knees buckled and his body followed, causing him to lean into her, but somehow she supported him, keeping the both of them from falling into the dark below. His arm wrapped around her instinctually, clutching at her tightly, their foreheads pressed firmly together. He couldn't stop the torrent of tears, his eyes shut tightly as he wept uncontrollably.

His voiceless cries became caught in his throat. He could feel a gentle touch. A soft hand resting upon his tear stained cheek. A single thumb wiping away the pain evident on his face. His eyes slowly opened, finding a pair of strangely familiar hazel eyes peering back at him, swollen and red from crying just as his no doubt were.

He was once again at a loss, though this time for completely different reasons. He found his gaze falling to her chest for answers, the light radiating from that area telling him what he wanted to know before his eyes even reached there. He didn't just find her candle there though, but two, joined by the wicks, burning brilliantly together.

It was unlike any other flame he'd ever witnessed. It wasn't simply surviving, desperately grasping at what little remained to fuel it. It was living. Shining with an undying passion. He found it breathtaking to behold, the grip on his own candle tightening ever so slightly.

The hand on his cheek reminded him of the owner of the light he was so entranced by, his gaze returning to her just before her lips collided with his. Initial surprise melted away in an instant and his eyes drift shut, a warmth spreading from the point of contact to fill his entire body. It felt bright and beautiful, but at the same time fierce and painful.

This wasn't just her warmth he was feeling though. He fully realised that the flame he had ridiculed was now consuming him. Engulfing his body and hers, burning more brilliantly than ever before. And as their flame continued to grow stronger, the abyss that had surrounded them was forced to retreat, leaving behind nothing but light. It was unlike the gentle dark; so much more chaotic and frightening. But it was here in this very light that he truly felt alive. Like ashes igniting into embers.