Intense Heat
I've always been a bit different from the other kids. In mid-summer, when it was searing hot outside, and everyone else went in for ice cream to cool off, I didn't. I'd stay outside and lay in the grass, letting the sun burn me to a crisp. It felt good. The heat from the sun soaking into my pores. I loved every second of it. The only problem was when the parents finally noticed, and pulled me back inside to put cream on my burns to ease the pain. But I didn't want the pain to stop. That kind of pain felt good.
One day, when our lights went out during a storm, my mother had to light a lot of candles. There were so many of them! Some of them smelled like fresh strawberries, and some smelled like lilac. A few of them had no scent, and those were the ones I liked best. If there was no smell, there was nothing to distract me from the wonderful heat of the flame. I could stare at a burning candle for hours, watching the flame dance around like it had no worries in the world. And it didn't. After all it was only a small bit of fire. Once, as the hot flame zig zagged back and forth on its unscented candle, I had an idea. I ripped off a strip of paper from the nearest newspaper, and hovered the tip about a half inch above the flame. The fire seemed to be trying to stretch itself out, reaching for that scrap of paper, begging to expand its own beauty. And, eventually, it succeeded. The strip of paper caught the fire. I watched as the flame slowly devoured the paper, inch by inch. The flame was close to my fingers now, so close that I could feel its heat. It was trying to reach for my fingers now, still trying to expand its beauty. And I didn't try to stop it. If the fire wanted me to be its new candle, I wouldn't object. The flame started licking my finger, and the heat grew more and more intense on my fingertips. The fire was on my skin now, burning it. It was hot, blistering, even. But I didn't mind. The heat felt good, and watching the flame dance on my skin was amazing. But that was when my mom had to come and ruin it.
"Elena!" she screeched, rushing over to me. She grabbed my wrist and yanked my hand under the sink, turning on the faucet. The water rushed onto my finger, extinguishing the small flame. There was a faint sizzling sound. When the poor flame had vanished, my mother took my hand and started inspecting my finger. The tip of it was black as tar, and crisp. I smiled, looking at my finger. What wonderful things fire could accomplish! Too bad my mother had to come and ruin before the flame could spread its beauty even farther.
My mother scolded me for what I had done, and went to look for her giant medical book. The book told her what to do in case of severe burns like this. But it didn't matter, because she never put out the candles, so I went back to merely admiring the dancing flame, and envying its everlasting beauty.
The Other Half
When I had just started middle school, I wasn’t very popular. The other kids didn’t understand me. They were small minded. They feared things that should be worshipped and worshipped things with no evidence of its even existence. They were insane, and had the audacity to call me crazy. Like I was the freak. I ignored each and every one of them.
But there was one who just didn’t seem to get the picture. His name was Jonah, and he was the worst of them all. He always asked stupid questions, and got offended when I gave him smart answers. He was always talking about some man he never met, who he said had all the answers, if you’d just ask.
“I have my own way of finding answers.” I told him one day. “And it doesn’t involve any of the insanity you tell me about.”

“And what’s that?” he asked. I sighed, slightly exasperated. I looked around, making sure no one was paying attention. I reached into my pocket, and slowly pulled out my lighter. His eyes grew wide, and he opened his mouth wide, as if to shout. I quickly shoved it back in my pocket and covered his mouth with my hand.
“Shush up, will you?” I hissed.
“You’re not allowed to have that!”
“I’ll determine what I am and am not allowed to have.” I responded. “And besides, you asked. All I need to do is flick my thumb, and all the answers I need will be revealed to me.”
“That’s not what happens!” he said. “When you flick your thumb on that thing, it starts a fire!”
“Same thing.” I said.
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get burned?” he asked.
“Afraid of it?” I asked, mortified. “I hope for it every time.”

Tunnel of Flames
Over the course of the next few years, my mother tried so many things in an attempt to separate me with fire. She thought peer pressure was a cause of my "problem", so she tried homeschooling me. That only made it worse. I had more free time. I could never be able to start a fire at school, but at home, I had so many chances, and I took advantage of every single one of them.
She thought media was a cause, so she stripped me of all contact with the outside world; no TV, no computer, no shopping, nothing. But, again, it only worsened it. Without the privilege of other people or means of entertainment, I turned to fire for comfort, and for joy.
At one point, she even thought I had gone crazy, and sent me to a mental institute. But that ended horribly. During one of my free-hours, I went outside to go play. I hadn't seen fire in days, and was desperately in need of some intense heat. So an idea started to spark in my mind. I had seen people start fire with two pieces of woods before on television, and didn't see any harm in trying it myself. So I grabbed two thick twigs, and hid in one of the tunnels on the play set. It took me a good half hour, but eventually, after continuously rubbing the two pieces of wood together frantically, a spark appeared, and soon after, one of the twigs caught fire. Like the wood, my face lit up when I saw my first flame in days. I wanted the fire to touch my skin, to spread its beauty, but I feared the consequences; another week in solitary confinement. So I settled on simply admiring it, watching it dance gracefully back and forth. Watching the flame sway so elegantly made me want to sway, too. So I did, ever so slightly. But the tunnel I was in was small...and wooden. All at once, the tunnel caught fire, and started to burn at a rapid speed. The fire was expanding and growing, becoming stronger and stronger. It was engulfing me in its flames. It was amazing. I yelped out in joy as the first hint of fire licked my skin.
The fire was all around me now, and I could tell it wasn't going to stop there. I heard the screams of the other kids, and I knew that they had seen the fire. The heat around me was like an inferno. The hem of my pants was on fire, and the flames were crawling up my leg. The heat felt so good, I yelped again with joy.
"She's trapped in there! Someone help her!" I heard someone yell. It was Janet, the nurse. All of a sudden, the sweet, sweet heat around me began to soften, and my skin felt cooler. "It's okay, Elena, we're gonna get you out of there." Someone was extinguishing my fire! No!
"No! Stop!" I yelled. The fire kept sizzling, slowly dying. "Stop! Oh God, please stop!" My fire was almost all gone now.
"It's ok, the fire's gone now, Elena." That stupid person must have thought I was yelling at the fire to stop! The idiot! I would never tell the fire to stop burning! It doesn't, it shouldn't stop, because it's what it does! It's its nature, and we can't disrupt something natural!
I felt the person's hands wrap around my ankles and start to tug. No! They would not take fire from me again! I kicked and screamed and fought with all my might. I clawed at the burnt wood around my, trying to stay in place. I felt my foot make contact with something hard, and I heard a loud crunch. The person cursed.
"D***it! You little s***!" I smiled to myself. I heard another pair of footsteps rush over to us, and I started to kick and scream and claw even more furiously. Suddenly, I felt something sharp enter my skin beside my ankle. They were sedating me! No! I screamed and cursed at them, fighting to stay awake. They couldn't do this! They were trying to extinguish me just like they had my wonderful fire!
"No!" I screeched, but I could already feel a wave of exhaustion wash over me. My muscles felt ten times as heavy as they had before, and it became such a struggle to even lift my head, that I decided to just let it lay there. The world became dark around the edges, and I felt myself being slowly dragged out of the tunnel.
I never stopped kicking and fighting, even when one of the people whispered to me, "It's okay now. You're fine." But I knew I wasn't. I could never be fine until the world accepted me for who I was, until they let me live with fire in peace. I would never be fine until everyone stopped being so jealous, and simply became like me, a person filled with so much love, it almost couldn't be contained. And I started muttering these things to myself as the darkness around my vision increased, and the world went black.

The Dancing Flames
After my tunnel of flames incident, they kept me locked up in that hellhole for another year. I refrained from making my encounters with fire detectable, so eventually, after I showed no signs of hysteria or any mental disorders, they had no choice but to let me out. I enrolled back into school about a month later, but nothing was ever the same.
"Watch where you're going!" some blonde yelled as her books got knocked out of her hands when she ran into me. "God."
She bent down to pick up her books, but not before shooting me a death stare. I just bowed my head and walked away. There were many things I would have liked to say to her, but I didn't think that was the best idea at the time.
“Don't sweat it.” someone said.
"What?" I said, turning around to see who I was addressing. It was Jonah.
"Don't worry about her, or any of those other bottle-blondes for that matter." he said, falling into step with me.
"Yeah, I know." I muttered. "It's just... no one gets it. Get's me."
"I get it." Jonah stopped walking to look at me, but I didn't notice until I was a few steps ahead of him.
"Really, Jonah? You get it? Because I find that hard to believe, given the fact that you're practically pyrophobic."
"Elena, I'm not pyrophobic, and you know it." He said.
"Oh really? Then how, exactly, do you explain--"
Just then, the bell rang, cutting me off.
"I gotta go." I finished, shaking my head and walking off towards my science class.
It started out boring, as usual, until I heard Ms. Hawthorne bring up the word "burner." I perked up instantly.
"Please have the person sitting at seat two of every table go to the storage room to grab a burner for you and your partner." she said.
I was in seat one, so whoever my partner was got up to go get it. I'm not sure who it was, but she brought back the burner, and didn't plug it in.
Ms. Hawthorne was giving us very thorough directions, but I wasn't paying any attention. I was staring intently at the burner, waiting for it to spark to life.
I'm pretty sure my partner was trying to talk to me, but I was ignoring her. She set up test tubes and beakers and unknown chemicals in front of us on the table. I didn't hear the teacher give the instructions to start the burner, but she must've, since I heard a click, and the burner's flames came alive.
I gasped. I hadn't seen so much fire in so long. I had only been able to light small matches in the basement. My partner began pouring mixtures of chemicals into beakers, completely forgetting about me, realizing that I wasn't planning on helping anytime soon.
The flames weren't just red-orange, like I was used to. The fire burned blue and white, the hottest fire of all. They danced back and forth, living free. But then the brunette put some metal pan on top of it, smothering it so the fire was so small, I could barely see it. She was killing the fire. She set a beaker filled with some blue, fizzy liquid on top of the metal, and the liquid began to bubble almost immediately. The fire became smaller and smaller. I couldn't let it just disappear!
Before I could think about what I was doing, I swept my hand across the metal, knocking down the beaker and spilling the blue liquid.
"Hey! What the hell, Elena! That was--"
But she was cut off, because just then the blue liquid pooled over, and it touched the small flame that still lingered. The tiny flame suddenly erupted into a giant blaze. The fire was huge and white-hot, but after a few seconds, the color changed back to its usual red-orange. Everyone screamed, as I expected. The fire engulfed the other chemicals on the table, only making it stronger, and its flames stretching higher.
Someone pulled the fire alarm, and the room was suddenly filled with the loud ringing of the alarm. But the fire was still spreading. It had already swallowed up two of the other tables, but the flames had grown to a point where they were strong enough and high enough to set off the smoke detectors. Water started raining down from the ceiling, attempting to extinguish my wonderful fire. But the attempts were proven futile. The water did almost nothing to put out the fire.
Everyone was running out the door, trying to escape the heat of the flames, but I didn't. I let the fire circle around me, heating me.
"Elena!" someone called to me, probably scared for me. "Elena, don't!" Wait, I knew that voice. It was Jonah.
Elena. Someone else was whispering to me. Elena. I looked around the room, but it was just me and Jonah. Even Ms. Hawthorne had left.
"Elena, get out of there!" Jonah was panicking, I could tell.
Don't listen to him, Elena.
He was in the doorway. I could see fear in his eyes. He would never enter the classroom. His fear of fire was stronger than his love for his best friend. He'd sooner let me die, than walk straight into an inferno.
The circle of fire around me was getting smaller, closing. The flames were stretching towards me, trying to attach itself to me. And then the unbelievable happened. Jonah stepped through the door, exposing himself to the fire.
I could tell he was scared witless, but he continued, slowly making his way to me. His body was shaking, and pure terror was showing on his face.
The circle was small now. There was only room for me, and it was still increasing in size. "E-Elena." Jonah whispered my name, but I could still hear him. I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was walking through a pit of fire, facing his worst fear, for me. I could help him. I could step through the fire, and help him.
Leave him, Elena. He is stupid. You are smart. Stay with us. That voice... it wasn't coming from one place. It seemed as though it was coming from everywhere, and nowhere, all at once. It was emanating all around me, but at the same time, it was only a whisper in my mind.
Elena...Elena...Stay with us, Elena. Stay with us.
Stay with us...stay with us? That wasn't Jonah talking.
Elena...
Oh my God. That was when a wonderful, fantastic, extraordinary realization hit me. It was the fire! The fire was speaking to me! It wanted me just as badly as I wanted it! But... to go with the fire, meant leaving Jonah behind. I could help him, I thought. I could still step through the fire, and save my best friend. I took a step, but hesitated.
Don't go, Elena. He doesn't understand you. We do. We always have. Stay with us, Elena.
I couldn't forsake my fire. I was mentally debating what to do. I only had a few moments left. But it was almost too late. The circle around me was already too small. The fire was attaching to my clothes, eating away at them, trying to get to me.
Jonah screamed. His pant leg was on fire. He was waving his leg around wildly, but when that did no good, he started trying to fan it.
"No!" I yelled. Didn't he know that fans only increased the flames? The fire started crawling up his legs, and his arm caught fire too, as he waved it around frantically, stupidly.
Behind him was a fire extinguisher. I tried to call out to him, but my voice was muffled by the roaring of the fire. The heat just felt so good! The fire was on me, burning me, and I loved it. How could Jonah not? He was screaming and waving his limbs frantically as the fire only spread across his body. The fire was doing the same to me, but instead of fighting it, I was encouraging it. The flames were beautiful, and they weren't trying to cause harm.
Of course we’re not, Elena. We love you.
The fire was stretching across my body, climbing up higher and higher. It was up to my waist, and on my arms, and it wasn't stopping there.
Jonah was almost gone. He was writhing on the ground. It was hard for me to look at him like that, seeing him feel so much pain in something that was so good.
The fire was covering almost my whole body now, and I felt too weak to stand, so I lay on the ground. Through the fire, I caught one last glimpse of Jonah. Our eyes made contact, and what I saw hidden in his eyes broke my heart. He was looking at me with pain, sorrow, and worst of all, pure hatred. I had chosen fire over my one true friend. But the choice was made, and I would not let myself go out feeling sad and alone.
He does not recognize our beauty. He deserves to die.
The fire was right. He was just like everyone else, driven by anger and held back by fear. So I closed my eyes as I lay on the ground. I felt serene, as my best friend was less than five feet away in the same scenario, writhing in pain. I let the heat of the dancing flames engulf me, as I lost consciousness for the last time.