Short Stories

Fire's Birth

With a huge clatter, a solid black object smashed into another. 

Crash.

Crash.

Crash. 

Each time the solid object hit its partner, bursts of color would fill the world. 

Each time, a glorious plethora of oranges reds and yellows, graced this world with their presence. 

These little playful beings would soar through the air, flying this way and that, enjoying the world.

But their lives never lasted long. 

To anything else, their lives were insignificant, ending faster than any being could blink.

With another clash, the two objects hit each other again, another wave of beautiful sparks coming forth, but this time something changed. 

Determined, the sparks rushed toward the ground, crashing atop the dry, dead grass, the wind, seeing an opportunity for fun, blew hard at these rebellious spirits. 

The sparks reached their targets and began to tear at it, every bit of grass, every dry leave, any fallen branch. They grew and grew, no end in sight, eating and tearing through the landscape.

Their rage grew, years of just being known as small, or insignificant, being their true fuel, no one would think them weak anymore.

What once were sparks, was now a blazing inferno, tearing through the world. 

The birth of Fire.

-RambuctiousCat