She walked slowly through the dense smoke, being careful not to step on any of the small piles of cinder piling around her feet. Her charcoal black hair hung in silky strands around her ivory face, her ashen covered crimson dress flowed behind her like flames licking at her long legs, as she moved majestically, almost flying effortlessly over the colourless land beneath her. Her name was Fire.
She left despair and horror on the earth wherever she walked, everyone and everything feared her, she was known worldwide for the catastrophes she caused. She was loathed even more than her arch-enemy, Water, who quite often tossed unfortunate sailors to their deaths in one of her many fits.
Everywhere she went Fire was chased from the town; as two hundred years ago she had even been chased out of her own home by her mother. Ever since then Fire had roamed the earth alone and the memories of the night of the accident were etched in her mind as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.
Melody Winestone woke early on the day of her sixteenth birthday, she was very excited and the time to her party passed smoothly but slowly. She came from a rich family so her sweet sixteenth was the biggest party anyone in Pinecone Hollow had ever seen, the banquet was served on sparkling golden platters with Melody’s name and birth date embedded on each one in tiny crystal diamonds. An extravagant variety of gifts were piled upon a mahogany table and everybody in the town was invited. Everything was going well until the fireworks started, they erupted in showers of gold, blue and silver and everybody was fascinated by the colourful sparkles, it was an amazing experience, until a small spark floated gently down towards earth and disappeared into the ground.
Everybody stared at the spot where the spark had vanished and there was a moment of awed silence as the last shower of golden glitter lit the sky, when suddenly, without warning, there was a huge burst of flames, the miniature spark had caught fire and was snaking along the ground towards the table of alcohol that was reserved only for the adults. There was a loud scream and everybody ran for their lives. Melody had just reached safety herself when she saw her beloved cat Misty trapped in a corner, the orange flames racing towards her. It all happened as if in slow motion, Melody ran towards the alcohol table screaming at her cat so that she would run, but she didn’t budge, her fur fluffed up as the tall menacing flames came ever closer.
Melody ran as fast as she could and she reached her pet before the flames did, then thrust the cat at her father who had witnessed the scene with a horrified expression. He looked on helplessly, unable to move, as Melody whirled around to face the flames, there was no point in running now, the flames were too close to the drinks table, but Melody, brave as ever, summoned her remaining strength and ran as fast as she could. In her heart she knew she would never make it. Suddenly there was a loud explosion, like the sound of a gunshot, and as flames towered above the majestic home of the Winestones, there was a blood curdling scream and Melody crumpled to the ground, flames engulfing her as if she were in a cage, her black hair pooling around her limp body like a puddle of death.
But Melody didn’t die, she was rushed immediately to hospital and although she was treated as fast as possible, the doctors thought that she wouldn’t make it, but even if she did, they said, she was so badly burnt that they feared she would never walk again, but that’s when Dr. Ash arrived. He examined Melody’s quivering body and pressing his fingers lightly up and down her ruined skin, a frown came upon his face, he pressed his sweaty hand against Melody’s forehead and screamed in agony;
“Somebody get an icepack, fast!” An apprentice nurse ran out of the room and came back moments later with an instant ice pack in her hand, she smashed it against the steel frame of Melody’s bed and handed it to the doctor, who surprisingly, instead of laying it on Melody’s forehead placed it gingerly on his own hand. The nurse stared at him in wonder but didn’t say anything; the doctor surely must know what he was doing. The doctor examined a large, shiny pink patch on his hand and pulled a face, swearing silently under his breath and stared in wonder at the sixteen year old girl lying in bed before him.
He examined Melody daily for the next two weeks and during that time no one was allowed to see her, not even her parents. The doctor concluded that Melody had a type of sickness which burnt anything that she touched; the doctor was confused so he called in medicine men from far and wide. Nobody could diagnose what had come over the girl or what had caused it, all they knew was that she was burning up. Then one day when Dr. Ash had all but lost hope of the girl ever recovering, the man arrived.
It was a misty Saturday afternoon and the doctor was sitting by Melody’s bedside trying to figure out the puzzle that lay before him. The man walked gracefully into the room and quietly seated himself on the other side of Melody’s bed. Dr. Ash looked at the man, nodded sadly and said;
“Ah, Dr. Shamee, good to see you, here is the child I told you about.” He pointed to Melody lying stiffly on the scratchy hospital sheets; Dr. Shamee turned his withered face towards the child and nodded, and then he spoke;
“Give her this medicine twice a day” he said in a wheezy voice, whilst extracting a large crystal flask from his coat pocket and pouring two tablespoons of the purple liquid onto a face cloth. He then began carefully dabbing Melody’s skin; almost immediately there was a small difference, her skin lost some of it’s burnt look and was substituted with a small ivory glow “Do this every day for seven days,” he instructed Dr Ash, “even if her skin looks healthy, continue doing this for seven days, not six days, not eight, seven, do you understand? This is most crucial. If you do not follow my instructions she will not recover fully. I must leave now, goodbye,” and with that Dr. Shamee got up, and vanished through the door.
Dr. Ash looked at the spot where he disappeared and shook his head, but then he took the cloth soaked in the magic liquid and dabbed at Melody until the cloth contained no more liquid. Now Dr. Ash was normally a very careful man, but he was also a very busy doctor, and although he did what the magic man had told him, he forgot one crucial instruction; he watched Melody’s progress with fascination and thought that the purple liquid had to be a miracle. On the sixth day Melody looked healthier than she had in a long time, she had even opened her eyes and walked around a bit, it was amazing.
On the seventh day Dr. Ash let Melody out of the surgical ward, he thought that since her progress was so amazing, why waste a good four tablespoons of this miracle potion on somebody who looked healthier than they had before the accident? So he let her go home on the seventh day.
Her parents were ecstatic to see her and went to hug her, but that’s when the trouble began. As Melody brushed past a tapestry hanging on the wall beside her it suddenly caught fire! Her mother, realising what had happened, screamed at Melody to get out of the house and to never come back again or she would be killed by the counsel of elders. Melody was heartbroken, she had been in hospital for almost a month and this was the welcome she got? She ran away from home and never looked back again, until now.
2
Now, some two hundred years later, she was making her way across an ash-covered field, and she was about to do something she was going to regret. She had reached her final destination, the house of Death. She banged on the large black oak door and instantly Death’s door flew open;
“Fire! Come in dear, come in” Death led Fire inside her cold house, she was careful not to let her touch anything, she pointed to a large fireproof sofa and Fire sat down. Once Death had gotten comfy she spoke;
“Now what can I do for you today dear?” she asked sipping from a dainty little blood red tea cup and taking Fire’s hand.
Fire stared at Death, her long silky blonde hair almost reached down to her waist, and her sparkling deep blue eyes were hypnotizing, her voice flowed like music over Fire soothing her instantly, as did Death’s cool hand, the only thing that had ever felt cold to her, Death wasn’t affected by her fire at all. Fire took a deep said and said;
“Death, I need to ask you a favour…” she trailed off, staring into Death’s beautiful face, Death put down her tea and urged her to go on;
“I need to borrow your Dagger of Death.”
Death looked at her for one long moment, then she sighed and picked up her teacup again;
“And why would you need my Dagger of Death?” she asked matter-of-factly.
“Well, because I plan to…to join you” Fire answered in barely a whisper.
Death sighed again and spoke as if she had to deal with this every day;
“And why do you want to join me?” Fire stared at her; she of all people would know how she felt.
“Because everyone hates me!” Fire blurted out. “Everyone thinks I’m horrible! Everyone would rather see me dead! So I’m doing them a favour!” Fire was now screaming at Death, who not at all stung by this outburst, and she coolly raised one eyebrow;
“Everyone?” she asked, “what about those people who suffer in the winter from the cold, and the only thing they have to protect them from me is you. What about those people who are poor and are looking for things to eat and when they do find something they have to cook it to survive? Who helps them survive? You do.
If you’re telling me that every single person alive absolutely loathes you, then here, have the Dagger of Death, do with it whatever you want” and she thrust a beautifully crafted silver dagger into Fire’s lap.
Fire reluctantly stood up and walked to the door, turning once more to look at her friend for the very last time. Death put away her cup as she watched her friend walk away from life and went to the kitchen with a heavy heart.
Outside Fire was fighting back tears, as she held the silver dagger firmly in one hand and walked to the end of Death’s shabby garden. She settled herself under a withered oak tree and, placing the dagger below her throat, she looked around, drinking in the beautiful countryside where, ironically, Death had made her home. She glanced up one last time at the beautiful sky, wishing she could just fly away from all this and plunge into the snow white clouds above her.
Then she placed the point of the dagger on her chest and plunged it into her heart.
She didn’t scream, she didn’t even wince, she just sat there watching the blood flowing down her already crimson dress while she felt her life slowly slipping away. She thought nothing but peaceful thoughts and of the happy memories she once had, and then she died, her heart gave one last final thump and stopped. For one moment everything was peaceful and then suddenly she burst into flames and quickly became nothing more than a pile of ashes. The wind was beginning to stir, and suddenly, out of the pile of grey and dreary ashes a brilliant fire-coloured bird burst out, Fire!
The phoenix lifted itself up to the sky and spread his brilliantly orange coloured wings as it soared towards the powder blue sky, plunging itself into the cotton candy clouds, enjoying the cool feeling of the wind against its body. A single feather floated softly down to earth and a cool white hand caught it in mid air.
Death picked up the bloodstained dagger, and stroked the smooth crimson feather as she looked up at the sky and caught one last glimpse of the beautiful phoenix soaring through the heavens, and knew that this was not the end of Fire, it was the beginning of another journey, and turning back to her house threw the dagger over the fence where it landed point first into the mud, and it was never seen again;
“The beginning of the end” Death thought to herself, and smiling, she closed the door.

THE END