enya semprys } { district five | fin

| the dragon |

They always said fire was that of only a second nature to I. A burning torch with bright, fresh ember red hair that mimicked the raging torches that I held so half cautiously- half carelessly in my clammy palms. The heat radiated off the illuminating fire that slowly, and gently kissed the tip of its flame, incinerating the dead skin along my fingers. It was a sensation that I'd grown acclimated to plenty of years beyond this time, for when the controlled flame licks my skin- I feel nothing anymore.

("But are you the lost one?")

"Lost?

Not certainly.

Gone?

Vacant?

Perhaps."

("May I ask?
Who do you do this for?") 

The soft breeze flows against the current of the flame. (Perhaps I am lost, but at least my ghosts can lead the way.) Flickering rapidly, the flame edges along my fingertips, the unsteadiness never left a trodden trail even once in my mind. Some say I'd grown far too familiar with the infernos when they come about- too much to never again be scared of even the ones most controlled.


A guarded ring of fire danced along the circular divider between the world and I. Left as an open blaze, potentially harming those who even thought to intrude. ("Warning! Upon entering the ring of fire injuries caused will be critical, and in some cases- even death.") Albeit the warning forever etched into stone, some remained ultimate risk takers, taking one step into the firestorm of pure hell. Many have entered, and none have returned the same.


Yet, the question was left open, seeking a well thought out answer, one that I did not contain. Instead, I responded with that of a chuckle at even a thought, slipping my nimble hands into the pits of my pockets. Glossy, frozen blue eyes look over the sides of the mans figure, followed by a shrug, and a simper-smirk that contorted the ends of my lips. Eyes looked him back two-for-two, and I felt the words coming up my throat, unable to be swallowed back even by force.

"May I ask-"

Voice soft, loaded with a silent purr of a coruscating aggression that urged to spark into this existence. Although, it conflicted with a heart of thickly sculptured ice, begging to be left out to thaw until it was nothing more. Maybe if it was, then perhaps I would feel the flame licking against my throat once again.

"Why does it matter?"

The words slipped from past my lips, falling in directions like fire to his face while the embers and ashes hit the hard ground. My head tilted to the side, (my ghosts chuckled from the inside on, feeding off their true intentions), while my eyes squinted only slightly- the glare remained locked upon his. ("We don't need to blame ourselves for it, Enya- it was just an accident.")


("Then who is to blame, Fönn?") My voice became strained with irritation that bubbled up within the closed space of my body. The day was reaching upon us, and each step taken that it became three days- two- one- closer I could hear screaming against my eardrums. A plea is not significant enough to stop, and occupying myself is only a temporary solution to a permanent problem. (My ghosts grin with their pearly white teeth, taking my dirty tokens and exchanging them for even more sorrows.)


Eight years and the day would be marked with flowers left upon a stone tomb. Covered with dirt and dust one could tell the care for these individuals was only subpar. I reach my hand to wipe the name that lies beneath the caked dirt, before taking a step back and placing the flowers where the rest remain untouched. ("Nadia Semprys")


(My ghosts reveal themselves to be demons- but I decide to let them stay, for throughout these years they'd shown me the way.)

("Are you ready?

I'm gonna start counting!"

Tiny shuffled led to footsteps and animated laughter. Placing my hands over my eyes and head towards a tree, I counted downwards to the final few seconds of the longest minute I'd ever experienced. The air became silent, the footsteps turned to nothing more and all to be heard was the roaring of the river that ran through to the dam.

"Three-

Two-

One!

Ready or not

Here I come!"

Turning away with determination, I went off to go search for both Fönn and Nadia. Seconds carried on to minutes, until I was stopped in my tracks, finding Fönn behind the trunk of a tree, I crept up slowly. (My friends always led me to her direction, perhaps they knew we couldn't be without each other.) Pressing the tips of my fingers against her back, I caught her by surprise as she jumped practically feet in the air.


Minutes turned to an hour, panic wearing heavily on our shoulders, as the sunlight screeched against the horizon. The game had been over far long ago and the responsibility in our protectiveness had been in question. Nadia was no where to be found in a place like this, how were we to go home saying we lost our little sister? (They whispered gently in my ear, it was the first time I'd heard them speak, and they told me it'd be alright- everything would be-)


Hours turned to days, and days turned to weeks. All of which the search for a missing girl had been raging on with dying hope. Our father began to pick up more hours at work, causing us to never see him anymore, really. Meanwhile our mother quit her job, taking up her life with a toxic solace to ease her sorrow, a lazy alcoholic is what she became, and perhaps it's better than an abusive one, but she was still good for nothing. And it was one day someone knocked on our front door, standing upon our doorstep-

"We have found your daughter.
You must come with us."

His voice was monotone and face stoic, unreadable if the news was yet to be good or bad. In return we all followed him to a building, going in blind to was we might witness and encounter. It didn't take long until the fate was marked with a question that didn't need an answer.

"May we ask
If you can identify
That this is in fact your daughter?"

There wasn't a faint hesitation as the tears threatened to emerge from our eyes. Pulling the sheet from over her face gently, I couldn't help but look away, crying into Fönn's neck. Our parents urged us to leave the room, perhaps we were too young to have an understanding of all that was going on.)


Years passed along, and suddenly we were both fourteen and living on the street together. Our parents ways hadn't changed, forever mourning the loss of a daughter, and I couldn't help to blame myself for their downfall. ("You're a worthless, stay at home mother! You don't do anything but find happiness in the pit of bottles.") Life wasn't easy, and we made our way by performing in the town square, earning money to save up as life came and past. Stealing when we needed to, but ultimately we'd finally earned enough throughout everyday, saving it up instead of spending it like fools.


Eighteen years and we found ourselves a tiny house, it wasn't much, but we made do with what we could. Memories forever made and kept within the walls of the place we call home. (My demons whisper in my ears- "hush little one, have no fear. the girl with fire is an engineer.")

{ credit to: zoë }