Breaking the Block: Exercises in Prompt Fiction

by dixie.do.little

Drabble series based on prompts and inspired by evieeden's The Prompt Sessions. No hard and fast rules, just writing exercises to help me get past a nasty case of writers block. Primarily AU but who knows where the stories will take us. Chapter ratings will be mixed but the overall rating is a big, fat M to stay on the safe side.

2. I Burn

Prompt: Firewood

Inspiration: I Burn by The Toadies. You'll find direct lyrics and hints to the song throughout this dark little ditty.

Timeframe: Twilight… if things had gone differently in the dance studio. Decidedly darker.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. The Twilight Saga and all characters, recognizable settings, etc. involved within are the property of Stephenie Meyer.

Rating: M

I Burn

It's in the air I breathe.

The soot of our history, the pain of my past.

I breathe it all in, never to escape me. Him, them, the others, my past, my present. It smolders within me. It burns.

I burn.

I've piled every bit of firewood that whoever had owned this cabin chopped many years ago, on to the flames. It needed to burn hotter. Burn brighter. Burn cleaner. It needed to burn it all. Every memory, every nightmare, every scar. Every ghost, every specter that haunts my mind and my heart. Everything. I needed it all to burn away, maybe even me if that's what it took.

Maybe that is what it would take.

I'm no different from the kindling snapping and popping, searing and smoldering atop their flaming pyre.

Dry.

Empty.

Brittle.

Combustible.

Ignitable.

Maybe, just maybe, I can find atonement for my sins. For whatever malevolence I must have committed to deserve this fate, this life, this existence. I could burn and be purified. I could be absolved.

I could finally be free.

"No, Bella." A man whispers behind me. "No, sweet girl. This isn't the way. Stop, Bella. Just come to me, come with me. Let me, let us, care for you."

"I know you don't remember," the strange, yet oddly familiar, man continues. His voice soothes me. It calls to me. It scares me. "But I remember you. You were just a child to this world when they took you." He says softly, slowly coming closer and closer still.

"You were just a girl. Innocent, beautiful, brave. So good and pure. You still are, Bella. Intrepid and enchanting. You have been wronged and sinned upon, but you are still that guileless babe in the woods. Come with me, Bella. Come home, my child."

I could feel his arms slowly wrap around my shoulders, pulling me to him, whispering low sweet things. Calming me, soothing me.

Scaring me.

Igniting and smothering the flames.

Tethering himself to me, he pulled us away from the pyre of my sires. Their very tooth, bone, and shared spirit drifting upward. Filling me. Releasing me. The burning proof of my sins and scars.

But this man, he kept whispering lovely notions in my ears. Things about love. And good. And comfort. And home.

"Home," he says, slowly tilting my chin, making me look. Freezing the inferno, the holocaust within me.

"Carlisle," I sob, collapsing into the home of his arms. "Carlisle."

And I weep.

And I am carried.

And I don't let go.

And I need.

And I love.

And I burn.