Written in school, as usual, on a Friday during Chinese lesson. This idea just popped into my mind and refused to go away.
Mhmm, seriously, I don't even know what I wrote. It's just so emo, angsty, abstract... all rollled into a weird oneshot that makes absolutely no sense.
Oh well.
No flames, even though I know it sucks.
Enjoy.
Throughout her life, she had both loved and hated: hated the one she loved, and loved that which she hated. Yet in the end, she lost both.
Her heart had been given away, her hopes high, only to watch them get crushed repeatedly, her heart shattered over and over again.
She never once voiced out to the cause of her pain, preferring to keep everything inside her. When at long last she could take it no longer, she resorted to her powers to ease her bitterness, powers she had gained and hated after a crucial mistake all those years ago.
Watching fire cackle and burn its way through everything in its path, now that brought her joy; it was an emotion that she hadn't felt for what seemed like an eternity. Fire seemed so powerful, invincible, an important factor that was essential for life in the harsh, cold El Nath village in which she resided.
Gradually, as her heart scarred further, she began to lock herself in, opening up to no one; to her, fire was more than enough to sustain her, for it brought her a sure source of comfort and warmth, two things she had not experienced for a long while.
Over time, as her hopes dashed past the point of living reality and the broken pieces of heart no longer seemed to fit together, the verdict was clear. Tears were shed, but just not hers; she had changed.
She drifted further into her own isolated world, blocking out everything that attempted to break down her iron-hard gates of defense. The gates were sealed permanently shut, and fire, a non-living thing, was chosen as her refuge above all else.
Hate filled the void where there once had been love, and vice versa. It developed from comfort to affection, then from love to obsession. Gone was the one who avoided her powers for fear of bringing destruction, replaced by the one who possessed the warmest of gifts but yet, had the coldest of gazes.
Then one day, she lost it, both her mind and her gift. Somehow, the element had left her, not even a solitary spark would allow itself to be conjured. She didn't believe it, no, she couldn't.
Both of her loves had abandoned her, and now, one had reappeared in her life. She pushed it away, for now she only felt hate, refusing to believe the lies that had transformed her into what she had become. It pestered, offering comfort; she never relented, finally ending it all.
They said she was mad, driven to the point of insanity by her broken heart; she and her charred house were taboo.
Yet every year, without fail, there would be a bouquet of flowers resting on her grave. Flowers scorched beyond recognition, just as she had been herself.