The Love of Fire

Just a Part

It was at dusk when I saw her. She was one of the many performers at the famous Santa Monica pier. But there was something about her that just caught my interest. It might have been the fact that she was the only fire performer there. Her fire went up into the air when the lights came on at the pier. The way the fire responded to her, it was like they were lovers that couldn't stand to be apart. The best word to describe her with the fire was fairylike.

Her skin, of what showed, radiated under flaming light. The gypsy looking clothes she was wearing was of the color blue flames and looked blackened on the edges. Her long chestnut hair swayed with fire, as if it was mocking the fire. When she danced with the flames, I could hear bells ring with her movements. Then she saw me observing her, I looked into her eyes. It was her eyes that got me the most. One was blue, like the deepest part of the ocean; while the other was green as the rainforest.

It was when I looked into those eyes that it happened. I had to know her, the beauty that dances among the flames. But how was I, an ordinary guy, supposed to get close to her. She was like the Goddess Pele. I was afraid if I got to close to her, I would get burned by the flames that seem to protect her from her spectators. But she seemed to be calling out to me, her smirk and eyes told me to stay and wait for her.

I did just that; I waited until her act with the fire was finished. She collected her wages from the box that was in front of her. She looked at me with a smile and said, in what seemed like a British accent to me, "Hiya, I'm Rhonwen. Did you like my show?"