The Heart of the Fire

Stormy grey eyes framed by raven black hair stared back at Lenore, reflecting in the glassy surface of the lake; she had been told that she got her eye colour from her mother. The sun shining above her head created dazzling sparks dancing on the water. The brightness blinding her, she scowled at it, wishing for the smothering, cold, depths of darkness to reign. Glaring at the horizon she smirked when she saw dark storm clouds gathering, a wind rustled the leaves of the trees in the nearby forest.

There were miles and miles of the forest, with a creek running through it to empty out into the lake. Lenore and her Grandpa lived far from civilisation. She had done home schooling all her life, her only friends were the wildlife, she liked it this way, noisy people were a nuisance. Lenore was a loner, if she had gone to school she would have been called a goth, everything she wore was black, including her hair.

Only her eyes were grey, inherited from parents who had died in a fire when she was five. Now, although she could barely remember them, she detested anything to do with light and heat. She had gone so far as to even eat a raw diet, only with the occasional piece of chicken that her Grandpa forced her to eat. But never any seafood, not even fish, no, fish belonged to the watery dark side.

The only sense of fun in her life was her Grandpa, always there for her throughout her sixteen years of life. Even after Grandma died two years ago he had continued to be his usual lively self.  Probably only for me she thought sadly. Me, the horrible, disturbed, depressed, bitchy teenager, she laughed to herself.

Most of the time Lenore wallowed in self-pity, and then she would become angry at herself because of it. She wanted to be strong and happy for her Grandpa who had nurtured her through her life since she had watched helplessly as her old house burned down. Her parents had managed to get her out safely but had then they had gone back in, to get some of their personal possessions, not realising how fast the fire was spreading. They had been trapped in an upstairs bedroom. Lenore was still tortured by the roaring of the flames and the screams.

The only thing Lenore had left to remember her parents by was a teddy bear broach given to her by her mother. She wore it every day, pinned on the inside of either her – black – coat, or shirt.

The storm was coming closer now, black clouds covered half the sky, the air around Lenore crackled with electricity, tension filled every single bit of oxygen she breathed in. She got from her kneeling position and took a deep breath of negative ions, feeling the energy course through her body. Although she loved the cold, wet and darkness of rain she thought she’d better get home, the storm looked positively dangerous, Or negatively, rather, she thought wryly.

She took up a slow jog and in no time reached her house. But the storm moved even faster and already big drops were spattering down. Her Grandpa was not in, Must be checking the horses, she thought.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, her Grandpa came in soaked to the bones and slammed the front door against the howling storm wind. Lenore, snapping out of her gloomy state, worried for her Grandpa, rushed to him and ordered him to change into new clothes immediately.

***

Three days later it was now, the storm had stopped almost as soon as it had started, but it had continued to pour down continuously. Lenore was getting worried, their food was running low and the only way to town across all the creeks was to walk. But her Grandpa had caught a bad cold from being out in the storm. She glanced at him as he muttered and tossed and turned in bed, he called out, “It’s you! It’s you! How dare you.” Lenore rushed over to him with a damp cloth in one hand and with her other clasped her Grandpa’s hot hand. He is delirious again, she thought worriedly.

She shivered as she stood by the bed, this was the winter rains and it was freezing, but she had dared not light the fireplace in the room. I hope Grandpa is comfortable in this cold, but she knew she was living in denial, she would have to do something or they would freeze to death. Death, she thought, Darkness… Welcoming… But she dug her fingernails into her palms until she started bleeding; she had to get out of this for Grandpa!

***

A day later Grandpa had become worse, if anything. She herself hadn’t dared touch the electric stove for more than a couple of minutes to heat up milk and honey for Grandpa. But now she realised, as she noticed him shivering, she would have to light the fireplace.

Her hand shaking, she picked up the matchbox, having already laid out paper and sticks in the fireplace. She slid the match slowly along the box, but of course it didn’t work, trying again faster she struck it and got a small flame. She whimpered, images flashing through her mind. Lenore shook her head and, painstakingly slowly, put the match to the fire. Flame leaped up, and she mirrored the action in the opposite direction.

Lenore was paralysed with fear as she watched those bright orange flames eat up all the paper and started licking at the wood. She could imagine those flames licking at her own skin, tasting her, ready to bite.

She stood there so long that the fire was almost out, and she felt relieved. But then she remembered her Grandpa, and she picked up a stick and slowly reached out to the fire, but drew back again when a breath of wind coming down the chimney made the fire flare up in her face.

Lenore steeled herself, remembering all the times her Grandpa had made her laugh; all the interesting discussions they had had; and of course the time last year when Grandpa had saved her from trying to kill herself. She shuddered at the memory. Only focusing on Grandpa’s happy face now she placed the wood on the fire, and breathed a sigh of relief as the fire devoured the wood and not her arm.

Minutes passed, or hours, she was not sure, and slowly the room heated up. Grandpa had stopped shivering and was breathing easier now. Lenore sat by the bed watching his every breath, then she slumped forwards with exhaustion, she had barely had four hours sleep the past three days.

***

Who knows how long later Lenore woke up, feeling a familiar hand stroking her hair. She sat up straight and saw Grandpa smiling at her. She silently hugged him, happiness filling her up with warmth. It was then she noticed that the room wasn’t as warm as it was before, she glanced at the fire and saw only glowing coals left. She got up and walked bravely to the fire, her fear was gone now that she knew that because of it, Grandpa was on the mend.

Stirring up the coals she put more wood on, then walked back to Grandpa. He nodded at the fire, “You did that?” he asked, incredulous. Lenore nodded, and Grandpa gathered her up in his weak arms, hugging her, knowing what she must have gone through lighting it.

And for the first time in eleven years Lenore broke down into tears – of happiness.