~THE TALE OF BURN~

Act 1

Act 1: Rescued From the Ashes

CELOSIA STARED AT THE RAGING FIRE.
The heat cascaded on Celosia like a warm blanket, draping over her shoulders, and the entirety of her back.
Her shadow loomed over her being as the corners skittered with creatures and bugs; dancing to the light, the heat, the fire.
Cleosia closed her eyes as she drank in the warmth emitting from this strange thing.
She'd never seen it in real life. Folklore it was; this magical entity.
Cleosia stared at the huge bag she'd grabbed right before running off into the night.
Her fingers expertly unknotted the strings that were pulled together to create a makeshift lock. They were limp and numb for the constant bite of the cold had made her fingers swollen and bruised.
The bag opened with a click.
Inside lay three old leather novels, four apples, and a bag of coins that dangled noisly each time she moved.
Cleosia heaved a sigh as she stared at the insides of the bag.
She wouldn't survive.
Cleosia picked up the apples examining them silently.
She felt an awful lot like Snow White as she held the fruit in between her clammy palms.
The apple was a brilliant red that cascaded down the entirety, topped off with a green leaf.
The apple seemed perfect. As Cleosia studied the fruit, her eyes drifted towards the fire, and her mind tingled with curiosity.
Cleosia gently brought the apple towards the fire, the heat covering her once again.
As the apple inched forward, the leaf caught fire as the flames danced with the fruit, slowly moving down, leaving nothing behind.
As the flames licked the apple core, Cleosia stared at the fire whipping and lashing.
The once beautiful fire now seemed like an angry goddess, trying to claim her land.
The flames danced towards Cleosia's fingers as it nipped gently, careful not to bite.
Cleosia just continued to watch the scene playing in front of her as the fire gently intertwined with her skin.
She didn't flinch.
It didn't burn.
Cleosia thought it would hurt, or kill her, but the fire as if part of her, just danced, occasionally grazing the sheen of her skin.
The flame was a beautiful dancer. It twirled, jumped, and spun endlessly, leaving an aching path of destruction behind it.
The fire nipped gently at the edges of her sleeve, fraying the ends, and turning the white cotton into black.
Cleosia stared at the small yet powerful being, her fingers occasionally dancing along.
The little shack Cleosia was staying in seemed to glow a little brighter, and get a little warmer.
Cleosia gently stretched out her arm and lay down, careful not to disturb the flames restless dance.
As her head hit the cold wood, it was as if she was safe and sound, deep in her dreams.
Darkness came easier than she thought.

The shack was gone.
black decay of dead wood and burnt logs scattered the floor in an almost artful manner.
Only the area she'd been laying under was intact, along with her bag.
Cleosia was so confused.
Cleosia quickly scrambled to figure what had happened, her white tunic getting stained by the burnt leftovers.
As she turned to see what had happened, she noticed her books laying peacefully on the dirt ground.
A messy hand scrawled message was left on the empty book cover.
Cleosia stared at the empty cover. It was as if someone hand ripped all the pages out, one bye one, leaving the words to die on their own.
Cleosia turned to look at her other two books lying completely unharmed, and in prefect condition.
Cleosia picked up the messy note.
'She ate she drank she died.
Alive beside the fire.
Her body burned at the stake.
May the world never aspire.'
Cleosia stared confused at the letter.
As she gathered the novels up, she noted their names.
'The Story of Fire'.
'The Fire Crown'.
Cleosia stared at the burnt cover, trying to make out the words.
'The Fire Witch' it read, it's title messily mixed which was clearly the aftermath of the fire.
The pages lay skewn across the feild, blending in with the white perfectly.
The area surrounding her shack had just been coated with a layer of fresh snow, just high enought for Cleosia to see the corner of a yellow post-it sticking out awkwardly from the ground.
It must have been put together with the previous note, but was blown off by the wind.
Cleosia's shoes were wet and heavy, her hands were cold, and her teeth were chattering.
But with each step, Cleosia forced herself to step towards the note, heaving in a ragged breath each time.
Cleosia clenched her jaw as her fingers slipped into the cold snow pulling out the note with a yank.
The corners of the post-it were covered with frost and decorated with little snowflakes.
It was the same messy handwriting again that covered the page, but only five words were scrawled down.
Cleosia squinted, trying to see the words that had been written.
The snow had worn down the paper, leaving it a mushy mess.
The ink had beld through mixing letters together, to seem as if they were one.
Cleosia gasped as her fingers traced each letter, slowly peicing the message together.
Cleosia's eyes widened in fear as she slowly digested the words written on the sticky.
'Run little fire girl. Run.'

[<{ }>]

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