AN: Okay. The first thing in nearly forever. We're working on fixing the laptop. It needs just a zap of power and I can show you a masterpiece. Don't know how it's going to get that power yet though. This is the result of a late night turkey-less Thanksgiving two hour ride, while listening to Linkin Park, and in a sugar craze that can't be healed despite the large bag of candy, because of an old woman who is watching your every move to make sure you won't be a diabetic. I needed the sugar. At leastI wasn't hungry. Some wierder things have happened when I was hungry. Right. I hope you like it.
When I was a young boy, the world showed me a fire. And they told me to put it out. I was given four things. A glass of water. A small pail of water. A garbage can of water. And a flamethrower.
I extinguished the fire with the can of water. As I grew older, small spurts of flame kept coming back, and using the pail, I kept putting them out, or so I thought. I was now fifteen, and the fire was still not out.
But what I could not see was the embers, burning slowly, than igniting again. Tired of the endless dance, I poured the garbage can on the fire, and tired of my endless job, I fell asleep.
I woke again, and the flames were licking at my toes. I stared in astonishment, and my eyes narrowed.
Standing up, and carefully splashed the glass of water onto the logs. I watched, as the fire died slightly, but the water evaporated, and vanished. Wondering, I asked myself, "The water killed the fire, but then itself died…"And watching, I saw the flames come back, with a fury much more intense.
Again, I stared at what I was given to put out the fire. I'd been taught water was the best tool. But why then, was there a saying, 'Fight fire with fire.'? Since I was a child, I'd been shown how to use water to put out this fire. But my efforts are in vain…how much more water will I spend to put this fire out?
Tentatively, I stepped toward the thing I'd never touched.
The flamethrower.
Picking it up, I turned it toward the flames, and I torched the log, until it was nothing but ashes, and with a triumphant grin, I turned the small bucket over onto the smoldering ashes. The light in the room died, and I whooped with glee.
I knew what I had to do. I had to fight fire with fire. And use water as my backup. I can defeat the flames that lick my sanctuary. And hurt those I love. But there is one thing I must remember. I must not become the fire. Only fight with it.
Read and Review. Please. And if you didn't guess, this is Harry musing about Fire and Water, AKA Dark and Light.