Tale of Flames #2: Burning Up

Julianne Scott

Flame woke up in a dark room. She gagged –  the place smelled like rotting eggs and – ugh – spinach.

“So,” said a voice. “You’ve woken.” She whipped around, but she couldn’t see anything. She squinted through the darkness and her eyesight came to rest on a dark figure huddled in the corner of the space. “Who are you?”  she asked, gritting her teeth, fearing the worst.

“Just a visitor,” the voice said. “A stranger.” Flame tried to glare at the shape for being elusive and mysterious and mostly all the things that Flame hated – but she knew the person wouldn’t see her or her soul-melting glare.

“Sooooooo,” she said, trying to make her voice as sarcastic and annoying as she could. “How long am I here?”

Flame could already practically see the scowl on the person’s face. “How am I supposed to know?” he growled. “I’m a prisoner too.” Flame groaned. All this mystical, mysterious mystery stuff was killing her.

“Dinner.” said a gruff voice outside the room. The cat flap opened, and two paper bowls were pushed inside. Flame was hungry, so she went over and took the bowl. She’d been hoping for soup or something, but instead, there was –







“YES!” the person across the room lunged at the bowl and without revealing their face, they inspected the cheese in their hands. “Oh, this is GENUINE!” the person cried, picking off a bit and chewing loudly. Flame looked at the person with, she was sure, a bewildered expression, because the person stuck their tongue out at her.

“What? I like cheese,” the person said. “This is the only kind I haven’t tried yet.” “You mean, addicted, right?” Flame said rudely. “Have you ever eaten any other foods besides cheese ever?” The person stuck their tongue out at her again.

Suddenly the heavy wooden door opened. Flame lept to her feet, ready to fight if necessary. A guard stepped in, brandishing a spear with a wickedly sharp hook at the end. “You,” the guard’s eyes flicked to Flame’s face. “You come with me.”

(to be continued)