Pyromania
Yet another short story I felt like writing. Boredom. My only weakness.
Staring. I hear it talking to me in its beautiful way of speaking. It's hissing and crackling. I step nearer to it, into it. Its tongues are licking up my sides. I feel the warmth, but no pain. I feel the gazes of others as I stand there, but I do not care one bit. There is only me and it. It and me.
Us.
We formed into one being. The other people were getting scared. I wondered why. Perhaps they would love to share this wonderful friend? I reach down and pick up a stick my friend is holding in her beautiful grip. I toss it to one of the people around me. It hits him, and my friend starts introducing herself. Yet somehow, he does not like her. How? How could anybody not like her? Perhaps he was a stranger. I grab more sticks and fling them at everyone nearby. My friend catches some of the people, yet even they don't seem to like her. I hear loud, whining noises. I turn around and see people coming out of cars which were making the sad wailing noise. Maybe they want to meet my friend? I throw a big stick to the car. My friend swarms out and covers the car in a huge wave of herself. I hear the men who came out of the sad cars yell "freeze!"
Freeze?
What an incredibly cold word!
Perhaps the men would like to meet my friend? She is always so warm.
I throw a stick with my friend wrapped around it.
I hear loud bangs. I feel this sharp pain in my chest. I stumble and fall. I see my friend cover me in herself. I black out.
I wake up in a sterile white room. I can't move. I am wrapped in something. I look over, and see my friend sitting there with my other friend. One is small, and sitting on top of a candle. The other is looking at me concernedly. Seeing that the two are fine, I fall back to sleep, comforted.