As The Flame Dances
The flame flickered with life, dancing as the wind lowered it's power. The orange, red, and yellow light show slowly demolished the wick.
He gasped as white pain attacked his form. Was there anywhere that didn't hurt? Blood escaped the many wounds that decorated his body, leaking away along with his soul. Another gasp, and a flinch, he pressed his pale skinned hand to his lower abdomin, trying to supress his life fluid from escaping. Tears streamed, glossing his white cheeks, spilling down to his chin, and finally falling to his shirt, furthering its drenched appearance.
The wick became smaller, the flame's once beautiful and harsh power, now withering in spite, struggling to stay bright. The wind increased, but the flame fought on, too stubborn to supress to the stronger element.
The man struggled gravely, biting his lower lip in a false attempt to ignore the pain, and the crimson red substance staining his once navy shirt. His heart beats became rushed, and then would slow, in a battle, which no one knew who had the upper hand. Something metal was inside him, sending quivers to rush through his broken form. He wanted to do something-anything, but only his sobs and cries of agony made there way through.
Lower and smaller the candle flickered, dancing in the wind. With a sudden rush of power, the flame thrived to life, before fading back down to its pathetic stance. With another try, it only rendered the destructious element in a more sad state then when it had started the struggle. Harder the flame fought, but the wick still lowering in size.
His vison was clouding over, the mind becoming numb. Everything slowed and stilled around him. Nothing mattered anymore-not when he knew he was loosing. The man could feel his soul start to fade-his heart beats becoming in time with his ragged painfilled breaths. With his last ounce of strength, he tried to move, to talk, just to hear his voice before he went. A slight rise of the head, horsed whimper, that he could barely identify as his own, escaped his chapped lips. His head fell back, sending his mind into a more tortuous place. The man's power was gone-he had nothing left to fight with. His heart rate slowed, breaths also declining.
The flame flicked, before sending a trail of smoke to the sky.
The flame had gone out.
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Death is inevitable. Unavoidable. So why would one beg for such, when they can not contain it forever? Well, use your imagination as to which Transformer turned human it is XD If anyone can guess right, you win a prize! What, I don't know yet, but you still do XD