Ashes (Flame Ash Burned Backstory)

Chapter 9: Phoenix

2nd November 2001

The boy had come back to life, but had remained asleep for the rest of the previous day ever since his death and well past midday on the 2nd November. His mother was long gone, along with the two-year old she had taken with her. His house was destroyed, as well as any possessions he owned and any happy memories he had made in that house.

Flame could relate to that somewhat, but her happiness was buried side by side to one another on the front lawn of an isolated village that was miles and miles away from where she was now.

She hadn't left his side once, and had carried him a little further into the forest to set him down on a bed of leaves she had made in an attempt to make him more comfortable. Occasionally, a car would drive past along the road, past the burning home of the boy.

It was dusk, and the amber evening light was dappled across the forest ground. The sun was just visible over the top of one of the distant fields which rose up onto a hill. A mix of oranges and purples and pinks painted the sky, and if there wasn't a burning house and previously-dead boy under it, maybe the place would be beautiful.

Flame sat, cross-legged, looking at the boy and wondering when he'd wake up. She wasn't too sure to explain everything that had happened to him without freaking him out, but then figured that if she was going to tell him what happened, she'd just have to tell him without sugar-coating anything or hiding anything.

He deserved the truth.

The fire boy groaned slightly, rubbing his closed eyes with the back of his hands. When his eyes opened, they were the exact same color as Flame's: bright and blood red, glowing slightly, and unbelievably beautiful.

"You awake?" Flame asked, prodding the boy's cheek with her finger. "Cause you've been sleeping since yesterday, and I want to talk to you. I've never seen anyone like me before."

"I'm..." The boy's voice was quiet, as he had just awoken. "I'm just like...you?" He raised his eyebrows, looking Flame in the eyes. "No way. You look... weird. No offense."

"If only I had a mirror..." Flame muttered, her eyes narrowing slightly. She had been alone for so long and the only company she had gotten was either behind a fence or decided to call her weird. Great. "Yeah, you look like a gender-swapped version of me. So if you think I'm weird, you should take a look at yourself."

The boy, realizing he had offended Flame a little, looked down at the floor, biting his lip. A nervous habit he had. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Flame sighed, her annoyance receding. "What's your name?"

"Dom. Short for Dominic." The boy, now known to Flame as Dominic, told her. 

He had a New York accent, and to Flame, who had only ever heard British and Scottish accents in her old village, it sounded strange. But she liked it. It was something different, and that something different interested her.

"What's your name?" Dominic asked Flame, sitting up and stretching. He looked her in the eyes, admiring their gorgeous deep crimson color.