Legendary // H.S

73.

'When the violence causes silence,

We must be mistaken'

*

I can hear the flames that rise up the east side of the warehouse. It almost reminds me of tarpaulin that whips around in the wind during a storm, like it's artificial and controllable, and not a natural element that consumes everything in its path. I can even feel the heat of them, even if I cannot see them yet. It's humid and uncomfortable, sweat already dripping down the sides of my head and collecting in my hair. But I'm not sure if it's the temperature that does that, or the fear over a gun being pointed into my back.

When I was younger, I found myself fascinated by fire. Or rather, the small sparks of light I'd see when I'd watch Dad use his saws to create more jewellery. He'd make me sit in a corner, far away from the machines, and I'd even wear goggles to protect myself. He'd weld the metal together, and I'd want nothing more than to touch the blazing surface of it. I'd want to feel the smooth silver under my callous fingertips, glide my touch across the shining mirror, but most importantly, I'd crave a subtle burn.

I'm not sure why, but it was like I could feel the sensation of my scalding skin as I watched it heat up in the machines, and for some unknown reason, I'd want to experience it for real. The searing metal against my sensitive skin, watching it blister away and scar, leaving a constant reminder of the day I did it. Permanently marked in the name of luxury and grandeur. There were a few times I almost succeeded, but Dad managed to stop me before I got too far. I always had a curious mind; I should have known it would lead me into danger.

My inquisitiveness, my desire for something more, something I should never wish for, has brought me here. Perhaps we're all Icarus, not just George. And now we're all about to burn in the blaze of the Sun.

The closer we get to the flames, the more convinced I become that we're within the remit of the torrid star. I can see its rays reaching across the room, igniting every human, object and shadow. The heat creeps higher and higher. The sounds get louder. The burning becomes brighter. Everywhere I look, I see the red and orange and yellow. The colours dance across every surface, and for a moment I find myself admiring it.

Something so beautiful but so destructive.

I like to think that if I were invincible, I'd join them in their rituals and move my body to the flow of the blaze. There's something so poetic about it. It looks like an ocean; the flames could be waves. Rolling and crashing towards the shore, dragging creatures below to join the life beneath the surface. Trapped souls, floating in the depths for eternity.

Would the same happen here? If we die in this fire, will our souls live on in the heat and join the creatures of rage? Or do we disintegrate into nothingness, ashes in the wind. Maybe that is the fate of us; to fly. At least we wouldn't fear the Sun again.

We reach the top of the stairs, Babz cautiously making her way down without holding the railing as it insulates the heat. To her right the blaze creeps closer and closer, threatening to engulf all three of us if we don't make haste. As we take slow steps behind her, I finally see the extent of it. The entire right side of the building is destroyed. Every workstation and piece of equipment is gone, any life once present, no longer breathing.

I find myself mesmerised by the sight of it at first. The way the flames curl and wrap around the beams and walls, the subtle ebbs and flows of it. Some parts are darker than others, but the edges remain a clearer and brighter yellow. I'm sure if you look close enough, you'd find a face in there. Maybe one belonging to a god of the element, or a dragon that causes it. Or, our minds will concoct the image of the person we hate most, seeing them as we take our final breaths just as they intended.