Fire

         Lucas walked down the dirt road, his boots scuffing against the dry gravel underfoot. His boots were old motorcycle boots he had inherited from someone, but he couldn't remember who. They were worn and heavy, far too heavy for the sweltering summer heat that bore down on him. He could feel sweat dripping down his face and fall into his eyes. He looked up to wipe his face, the trees and wildlife that surrounded him a distant thought in the back of his mind.
         He could hear the chickadees in the distance. Normally, their calls reminded him of his mother, but today he wasn't focused on these happy thoughts. Today, he could only think of the dull pain in his ribs, the phone call from the school and his family's disappointed faces.
         The phone call from the school had been about a fight earlier that day. His explanations had fallen on deaf ears at both school and home, however pathetic they were. He hadn't told anyone the truth of what happened, he was no snitch. Lucas frowned in frustation that his previous track record made the world prejudiced against him. Hate boiled in his stomach deep down, churning and making his hands shake. He knew he was right, so why couldn't anyone else see it?
         He thought back to that afternoon, when he had rounded a corner of the school yard, and came face to face with two older guys he typically avoided. At first they didn't notice him standing there, they were so intent on what they were doing. The taller of the two was snickering and fumbling with something while the other held out a lighter. Lucas had thought about turning back around the corner when the boy with the lighter spoke:
         "Hold it still," the shorter boy said urgently.
         That's when Lucas saw the puff of fur and heard the desperate growl coming from the bundle the tall kid was holding. He quickly realized it was a cat, intent on trying to escape it's captors.
         The other boy reached forward with the lighter and the cat's growl turned into a shriek of panic and pain, and the last thing Lucas remembered before the red veil slipped down over his eyes was the sound of him yelling out and the cat dropping to the ground and running away.
         A sudden pain in his ribs jarred him back to reality and he gritted his teeth. Of course no one had believed him. The cat had been wise enough not to stick around as evidence, and Lucas' "history" counted against him. All the other two boys had to do was collaborate on some bullshit story and they were free for another day of animal torture.
         That's not why his ribs hurt though. Driven to his wits end by his son's behaviour and fueled by alcohol, Lucas' father gave him a good shot in the chest "to teach him a thing or two about fighting."
         Lucas could feel the anger rise into his throat and suddenly he made a sharp turn into the woods. His boots noisily stomped through the underbrush as he followed a small but well-worn path. He came to a stop at a small fire pit and he could smell ash mixed in among the smells of tree sap and dirt. He went about gathering some twigs and branches, all the while feeling the anger still simmer in the pit of his stomach.
         He placed the branches he gathered in the makeshift fire pit and grabbed an old textbook out of a pile of miscellaneous junk he had stored away in this little wooded area.
         The book lit easily enough and soon it began to consume the branches.
         He sat down and watched the fire, mesmerized by the dance of orange and red flames. He reached over and picked up a small toy car, tossing it on the fire.
         Sure, he burnt stuff. Things like household objects, garbage lying around, even so much as old junk cars. But he never hurt anyone, or anything. That had to have made a difference. the thought of what those other boys would have done to that cat if he hadn't been there to stop them made him sick with disgust. Did they get a week long suspension? No. Lucas snorted. Typical. He reached over and put another trinket on the fire.
         As he watched the toy car start to melt, Lucas could feel himself relax. It was like he too was melting. He liked the way fire made him feel. It was so destructive, yet so beautiful. It burnt through everything and anything with wild abandon, leaving nothing but ashes behind.
         Lucas supposed it was the control fire gave him. He couldn't seem to control anything else in his life, but fire he could control and manipulate. It's crackle drowned out the voices of his family in his head, forever telling him he could do better, be better, make better choices. Really, all they told him was how worthless and insignificant he was.
         The fire didn't think he was insignificant. It understood him and fed off his energy like it fed off the branches he put into it. In it's fledgling stages, it needed him, like no one else ever had. It's existence depended on him, like his existence sometimes depended on it. Lucas also knew that the fire could grow, if allowed, so large it would be nearly indestructable. This he respected. Sometimes Lucas wished the fire would spill out of its confines, consuming him so that they could be one. Sometimes, the urge to reach out and embrace the amber flame was nearly undeniable... Then thoughts of his family would flood his mind, images of his sister and even his father quelling the urge.
         The fire burnt steadily, still kept alive by the remains of the tree branches. Lucas stared at it, watching it dance while lost in thought, finally relaxed.
         Eventually the flames began to wane, fading along with the sunlight. Lucas watched them extinguish and rose to his feet. He looked up at the sky, seeing only a few stars through the canopy of trees. His mother's star shone brightly, twinkling gracefully in the night sky. He took comfort in the fact that, even if no one else did, his mother had seen the events of the day and seen that he had done the right thing.