By Clarity Scifiroots
Disclaimers apply. No profit here, just a fan writing for fun.
Theme: 38 – the origin of fire
Summary: A ficlet about the fire in one smuggler's heart. (Wow I suck at summaries.)
The start of anything requires a spark to catch the kindling and begin the burn. In this case, the spark had been immediate, but the burn was slow, building quietly throughout the years. He only became aware of the fire because of its blistering heat compared to the ice of carbonation. Once he knew of its existence, it—and its source—was impossible to ignore. The flames licked his skin, made his blood boil, blurred his vision. Through the wavy distortion of heat he watched the one who had initiated the fire consuming him. The flames fanned higher, greedily reaching for the stars and beyond, clouding logical reasoning and erasing any semblance of tact until he felt he'd be burned alive by the uncontrollable blaze.
Then, surrounded by the flames, appeared an outstretched hand, pale and beckoning—soothingly cool. Curling his fingers tightly around the proffered hand, he felt the burn dim to a bearable heat. He stared at his savior and realized for the first time that he didn't stand alone amidst the flames.