Disclaimer: Familiar places and characters belong to Professer Tolkien. Here's a penny, go away.
~Fire Driven~
Black smoke billowed from the ceiling. Air rippled in immense heat. Flames consumed my house, eating away at banisters and spilling out of windows.
It's what I loved- the thrill of standing in the doorway, face to face with death.
Seeing my sister's horrified face only brought me satisfaction. Amid the destruction and panic, I stood, steam curling around me. I smiled.
I had done it all.
It had started with bits of paper, then books, then mailboxes. Soon I couldn't stop setting things on fire.
I had an unquenchable thirst for destruction, and the only way to feed it was by seeing something go up in flames.
Fire fascinated me as it flickered, devoured, and destroyed.
It started out as temptation, as small itch needing to be cured. Soon it was a hobby, a release, a pastime. The lighter made me feel powerful. The dark little girl. The one with the tragic flaw, the damsel in distress.
Fire-Raiser. The name sounded dangerous. I liked the edge.
I didn't do it often, just everytime I needed to escape from depression.
My motto: Make others feel pain, and yours won't be so bad.
It was a drug. Fire hypnotized me, and as I watched things burn, I could feel my mind escalating into bliss. No problems, no drama, no pain... Just the flames.
Cutters would understand. Users would know. Once I crossed the line, I couldn't step back over. That's the way it always was.
So I stood there, watching my own house crumble into ash, wondering if I had gone too far. Then I saw something that made me turn back.
A flame twisted across the carpet like a snake. But it was unlike any fire I had seen before. It was green.
It went trailing out the door, around the side of the house, and into the garden. I followed it in awe, totally unaware at what I had created.
Bending down, I touched the emrald flame. It was cold.
Cupping two hands, I scooped some of the fire up and watched, entranced, as it flapped against my fingers.
Without warning, it wrapped around my third fingers spread up my arms. Blistering pain seared through my entire body, and it felt as if a dagger had torn through my skin and ripped through my lungs.
I screamed but it sounded faraway and distant, as if I were underwater.
The earth tilted and I rushed downwards, the emrald fire burning into my eyelids.
Again I opened my mouth to scream, but the flames dived down my throat and settled in my stomach like icy flowers.
I felt my body expanding outwards, molecules shattering into fragments. I plunged into darkness and conciousness sifted through my hands like sand.
AN: And that's that! If you didn't like it, feel free to tell me why. Flames are taken into consideration, but at least have a point in doing it. I promise my character (whose name you don't know yet) isn't a Mary Sue. She's not some super beauty that's come to middle earth to steal the men (and elves) and throttle them with her perfection! Honest! Quite the opposite, really...