Warlock

A biologist taught me that fireflies flash at a certain cadence and only those who can mate will share a beat. Time stops. Fires flicker together.
         One night a warlock looked upon earth from the clouds and scowled at the lights. The warlock searched ancient scrolls for a spell that would blacken all worldly light.
         High in the mountains, below the cloudy lair of God, a singing milkmaid was cleaning linens in brook water. From the clouds the Warlock stared and wallowed in hatred of beauty like hers, hating qualities he could never command. In ruthless rage he cursed her nimble milking fingers to become large wings. He cursed her and her beauty by praying that she should die shortly and without notice.
         When the maid drew her next breath a firework show surrounded her. Flames made way down her arms to her hands that became wings. Fire flew upwards through her body changing every appendage into that of a bird.
                   The maid flew for hours until she landed on a cloud to rest. The maid saw the warlock walking. She sang a song from the mountains to call for his help. The warlock was enraged to hear and see the milkmaid as a beautiful bird until her wooing chirps touched deep within the caverns of his heart. He retracted his curse. A shocked human maid realized his magic had initially cursed her and ran at him clawing. He restrained her and looked through her eyes. Through tears, she gleamed through his. Two hearts collapsed and inflated simultaneously. Two souls married.
         The warlock remembered his second curse and began to undo his treachery. Before he breathed the final lines of his spell, his dove was a corpse. He muttered curses that he had never before spoken, words from no book but from his soul. A curse that all lights must be replaced by gorgeous fireflies; a reminder that there was once beauty.
         From his cloudy peak he dove towards illuminated earth. Diving through light. Seeing only light. Finding his darkness below the small winged light of life.