Author's Note:

This is a collection of one-shots about becoming a vampire.

This one-shot is more thoughtful and compares changing to fire (which is how SM describes it in the book). I like this one a lot and thought of it last night at an end-of-summer campfire.

Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. She is merely my inspiration and my story is based on her series.


I wonder what it would feel like if fire consumed me.

If I jumped into that fire, what would happen? Would it burn through my flesh and seep into my veins? How long would it take before I noticed the pain?

If I jumped into the fire, how much would it hurt?


The flames lick the logs of the wood we used to start the fire. The bright orange tongues grasp for the rough bark in an attempt to grow larger, brighter. The fire flares and sparks fly. If I touched these delicate flames, if I got any closer, what would happen? Would my skin burn, sending the scent of burning flesh into the air? Would anyone notice?

A taste of danger and the thrill of excitement would come before the pain. Eventually I would heal and the memory of the suffering would be all that remained. The memory of true agony.

Was there any worse pain in this world than burning? Worse than feeling the circulation of fire in your blood, forever scorching you from inside out? Staring into the flames of the campfire, all alone, I believe that this would be the worst pain ever suffered.

The flames glow brightly and I can see their potential. Their power. The power to burn through skin to the bone. To destroy whole cities. To completely decimate life. I take a step back and breathe a small sigh of relief, glad the others are sleeping in the cabin.

There is a popping sound and the flames flare, shooting sparks into the night sky. From the glow of the flames and the flickers of light, I look beyond the ominous fire. In the dark woods, nothing can be seen. But there is something closer to the fire, to me.

From within the bushes, I see a pair of scarlet eyes.

Their owner emerges from the hedges. The glow of the flames reflects off her pale skin. She's lovely. Her long blond hair glimmers in the moonlight and I wonder why I have not been blessed with such looks. Her ivory skin almost shines from the light of the flames. I return my gaze to the fire.

She doesn't speak, but gazes intently at me. Her eyes are hostile, but no more so than the bright tongues of orange and yellow consuming the logs.

She steps closer. The fire blazes and I can almost taste the smoke and the heat and the burning wood. Her eyes bore into me and I can't avert my gaze. They're so red and almost as luminous as the flames. Her mouth turns upward slightly. She takes my wrist gingerly and brings it to her face. It comes as no surprise to me when her teeth sink into the soft flesh.

But what does come as a surprise is the burning pain of fire, circulating in my veins.


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