Wisp
Prologue
A tiny wisp of smoke drifted up from the tiny candle. She breathed it in deeply. It was a scented candle. Smelled like cinnamon…
There's no warmth in a candle. Not like a roaring fire. But the tiny flame was like a little pet. It did nothing to physically comfort, but it made a nice little companion.
She was transfixed… It was a beautiful sight, the tiny flickering tear-shaped flame. She gently peeled off her gloves, tucking them into a fold of her expansive coat. Her fingers, once nimble, were stiff and frozen. The skin felt waxen and smooth, the usually pale skin now appeared to have a bluish tint.
She held her fingers to the tiny flame, barely feeling any heat at all. She was numb all over. She hadn't felt her toes for days.
A tiny wisp of red hair fell into her eyes, rather than push it back, she ripped it out and held it in the flame. Her green eyes lit up with delight as it crackled and burned. She was too cold to feel any pain in her scalp.
Curiously, she held her palm directly in the flame. She closed her eyes, enjoying the masochistic pleasure of burning flesh. Everything was so numb.
Crackling, burning, acrid smell… It hurts, golden pain, making me dizzy. Dizzy, delirious, delirious and crazy. She bit her lip. It was starting to really hurt. Before she could pull her fingers away, a harsh wind blew and her tiny friend was gone. Nothing left but a wisp of smoke, but a wisp of a breeze seized that from her, too. The smell of cinnamon was gone, instead replaced by the clean smell of cold air just before it snows.
She jammed her fingers back into her gloves; ignoring the searing pain her right hand constantly reminded her of. It was better than feeling nothing at all…
Rising from her park bench, she gazed around at the empty night, hearing the cars, hearing the people, but seeing no one. They all existed, she knew, but she'd only catch a wisp of their existence if she listened carefully.
She felt a shove behind her and then her cheek throbbed. The next thing she knew, her coat and scarf were ripped from her fragile shoulders and she was left on the ground next to the bench with only a thin sweater, her gloves and a hat to protect her from the cold.
"You OK, honey?"
Looking up at the rich alto voice, she was startled by the sight of a woman, or so it seemed. Tall and thin with dusky colored skin and a brightly colored dress. She shook her head.
"How awful people are. You look freezing. I know a place where you can warm up."
"I-" She found her voice rusty. It was hard to get the words out, especially with her chattering teeth.
The woman smiled. "I'm Angel. You can trust me, honey." Angel reached out for her but she shrank back. "You don't like being touched?"
She shook her head.
"That's fine. Have you ever been to the Life Café, honey?"
She shook her head.
"It's warm. Want to come?"
Warmth, heat, flames, fire… She nodded.
A smile spread across the he-woman's face. "Delightful!" She reached out a hand. "Need a helping hand?"
She reached out tentatively and grasped the he-woman's hand. It was more like a masculine hand, large and warm. She allowed Angel to pull her up. Heat seemed to radiate from Angel's body, despite the cold. She could feel the snow beginning to fall.
Without another word, Angel led her away from her cold Hell.
Half an hour later, she found herself in front of a small restaurant. "Angel?" She asked quietly, turning to thank her rescuer. But she was gone. With a small sigh, she entered the restaurant, hands in her pockets.
Astonished, she pulled a bundle of paper out of her pocket. There were ten twenty-dollar bills folded neatly in her hand. They hadn't been there before. "Angel…" She whispered, a tiny smile playing at her lips as she seated herself at a small table in the corner, hugging herself in an attempt to get warm.
She stared in front of her. There was a small candle on the table, cinnamon-scented she noticed. A small wisp of smoke drifted up from it. She breathed it in deeply and sighed, a bit more content and warm.