Everburn - Fuel

Nobody ever expects to find themselves being buried alive, screaming through the mouthfuls of dirt, and being punched and kicked and hit with shovels as they try to escape.

Many people thought he deserved it.

Especially the people doing it, and after all they weren't entirely bankrupt for reasons why they were doing what they were doing.

"I'M SORRY!" he screamed through half a mouthful of dirt and blood as one of the would-be dispatchers yelled back "WELL I'M FUCKIN' NOT!" The rage was tangible. It could be felt around the hole they were trying to fill, both metaphorically and physically. Their eyes made them look like different people entirely. Wide; with their teeth bared, and their facial muscles taut.

Something more destructive than even this trio became evident as it drifted through the air. It was the smell of a years' worth of suffering through flood and drought, the deadlines of the banks, salivating at the imminent takeover of their land. It was their hard-earned livestock food on the brink of an inferno, and in a matter of a few seconds, that is exactly what it had become.

When love; real, passionate, devoted, and absolute is called to action, there are no warnings, or threats or promises. Not even an omen. There is a ruthless demonstration of what someone is willing to do to keep their love, their true love safe.

The man who was now climbing out of his intended grave, had many true loves. An army of true loves. In her potential for destruction, each woman was a force to which any man would yield.

Including the wives of the men who had just tried to kill him.

For this reason alone, he would always be safe in this town.

I guess you're wondering how any of this could make sense all at the same time, but to reach the answer, both hands of the moral compass will be split and twisted into different directions.

"We can't control who we fall in love with", it has been said, and only those who have been destroyed by it, would know that love isn't blind, just imaginative, and it hallucinates the desired reality of the subject it entertains.

So, let me take you back, before the kidnapping, before the grave was dug, before he climbed from it, shaken but unwavering in his mission. This is the story of Everburn. A small town.

The sudden release of tension and total surrender of emotion rushed through them like some euphoric tidal wave. They pulled against each other as Goosebumps intruded on their skin. The passion grew stronger. She moaned at his kisses as they pressed against her neck which was visibly pulsing from the sudden beat of her heart rising, slamming against the confines of her chest.

He picked her up and placed her on the table, and she pulled her underwear off slowly with her legs together, teasing him as they stared at each other with intense lust. Those eyes he had been staring into for the past 4 years, yet unable to tell her how he felt, were now entirely focused on him. They were entranced with each other as the warmth of his hands moved up the inside of her thighs, and he gripped them firmly, pushing them open. He pulled her close.

Her fiancé walked in.

This wasn't one of those times where, "It isn't what it looks like", was going to suffice for an explanation for what he had become witness to. He didn't move but tried to speak and couldn't. What would he say if he could anyway?

There were no tears, or anger. It was the emotion you might feel if you were on an aeroplane about to slam into the side of a mountain as you looked around at the frantic passengers and thought to yourself, "So this is how it ends."