Just A Wee Bit Witchy

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. 

I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised, after all it was probably not the brightest idea of mine to lean out the second floor window of my mother's home, holding a lit match in my outstretched hands to see if the wind would make the flames dance. 

Well, my point was sort of proven to be correct, since the flames were most definitely dancing now, if not in the way I hoped. 

It was an early afternoon in the beginning of autumn when my little brother, Toby, and I were helping our mother in the kitchen. She had left to go give a pie to the neighbour who lived a short walk down the dirt road, leaving the two of us to peel potatoes for our supper later that day. 

The leaves were beginning to change color, and my brother was excited because he was going to take our dog, a hound named Blueberry, outside to play in the fallen leaves, though there were not nearly enough to make piles, I kept that thought to myself and smiled at him as I playfully scolded him to pay attention as he nearly cut himself with the knife. 

It was cold outside and we were running low on wood for the fireplace, so I decided to make us some tea. I took out the small matchbox mother kept on top of a cabinet, just out of Toby's reach, and lit the stove before putting the kettle on to boil. 

That was when Toby asked a question, to which I had no answer. 

I turned to look at him, considering. 

He asked me if he stood out in a field holding a single lit match in a storm, would the wind carry the flame with it causing shapes to form? 

I brushed it off with a laugh, "don't be silly!" I had said, and we went back to peeling potatoes.

Of course, curiosity got the better of me, as with most 13 year olds, and I began to secretly make a plan to test the theory. 

On October 25th, a storm rolled through my town, and I got to set my plan into motion. 

I had to wait until my mother and brother turned in for the evening, and after my mother checked in on me to ensure I was actually in bed, I pushed back my blankets and pulled the matchbox I smuggled upstairs and kept hidden in my trunk beneath my books. 

Tiptoeing around the creaky floorboards of my bedroom floor, I moved to the closed window, cringing at the squeaky hinges as I coaxed it open.

Pausing, I held my breath and listened for any sign of my family moving around, and upon hearing nothing, I sighed in relief and carefully slid back the outer cardboard of the box to reveal give matches. 

My heart leapt in my chest and I tried to steady my shaking hands as I lifted the match from it's bed. 

Licking my lips, I couldn't help but smile as I closed the box and pressed the end of the match to the side of it; holding my breath as I shook with barely suppressed excitement, my eyes flicked up briefly as I listened to trees outside blowing in the wind. One quick strike against the box was all it took before I was holding a lit match in my left hand. 

Now was the time I would get to test the theory. 

Practically bouncing in place, I gently tossed the matchbox onto my bed, and then turned back to the window. Swallowing, I used my right hand to shield my left, so that the flame wouldn't go out with my movement, then, with great care I leaned forward so I was partially outside my window, moved my right hand to hold my wrist, steadying my hand.

I stared transfixed at the match; it was so small between my fingers, which made it so much more fascinating to watch as the flame atop it grew.

I didn't mind the cold wind as it nipped at my face and caused my nightdress to rustle around me, I was too enthralled by the fire, and looking back later on, I now realize that it wasn't as normal as I thought for someone to love fire as much as I do, and did feel in that moment.

But standing there in the dark of my room, with only the light of the match to see by, I couldn't think of anything better, my bones felt hot and I felt so content, and a raw feeling of joy spread through me, making it hard to think why anyone could be so afraid of such a marvelous thing. I saw no forms like my brother wondered, but then again I wasn't actually looking for them, I was too entertained by the source of light itself. 

After a time passed (seconds or minutes or even hours, even now I am not certain how long I stood there) I was pulled from my comfortable trance by a dim stinging pain in my fingers, and slowly I looked to my fingers to find that the skin there was beginning to become burned.

Gasping, I dropped the match out of habit and held my fingers gently to see the damage. 

I frowned in confusion, because as I inspected them, I found no sign of any injury, beside what looked like faded pink scars that easily could have been from a drip of candle wax. 

Sighing I dropped my hands and rolled my neck, about to close the window and go back to bed, only to remember with a jolt of the match, that I so foolishly had dropped. 

Surging forward I gripped onto the window ledge as I leaned outside. As far as I could tell, nothing bad had happened, I saw no match but I also did not see any fire, which, in my book, was a positive sign because that meant that my mother wouldn't know what I did. 

Still, I didn't want to risk Blueberry or any other animals getting sick if they found the match, so I turned from my window and shut it. Making sure the latch was secure, I grabbed my coat from the floor,(my mother kept telling me to put it downstairs, but it most certainly was coming in handy now) and pulled it on, thankful for the warmth. Next, I tugged on my boots after pulling them out from under my bed, and then I carefully eased my bedroom door open, looking around the hall to make sure I didn't hear or see anyone, I then left my room and closed the door.

Going downstairs wasn't so hard, I knew all the steps that creaked and when I did mess up and step on one, no one woke up as far as I was aware, and so I made it to the front door in a small amount of time. 

I don't know what I expected- no, actually, I do. I expected to find outside quiet and dark aside from the usual noise and light from storms, what I did not expect upon stepping outside, was finding the leaves that had been blown off and fallen from the trees, to all be on fire.

It was terrifying, I suppose, but mostly I was amazed by its beauty and amused at how the leaves that used to line the trees on either side of the path leading from our house to the road, were now framing a dark path in dazzling light.

I took in a deep breath through my nose, but my senses quickly became overwhelmed by the smoke, so that I had to bend over in a coughing fit.

How could something so beautiful be so painful to witness? 

Well, each second that passed by was crucial, because the fire was spreading with alarming speed, and soon it would reach the front of the house. 

I heard Blueberry howling inside the house, followed by the shouting of my mother, and knew that they would be okay. 

No matter how much I loved the fire, I had to stop it before it got out of hand, I barely made it two steps before I stopped on shaking legs, because in the smoke traveling up from the fire leaning the path, I could see dancing shapes, and the longer I stared the clearer I could see them. 

I heard my mother's rushed steps as she came downstairs, and my ears rang as she opened the door behind me.

My eyes were wide and my skin felt dry and stung with every movement. 

"Mama, can you see them?" I whispered, not looking away from the shapes. 

My mother was considered as she replied, "who? Oh, nevermind! Come on, we have to get ourselves safe and get that damned fire out." I felt her hand closed around my upper arm and she tried to pull me back with her, but I did not budge. 

"The elephants and goblins." I said expressionless, my voice was matter of fact, like my mother was a fool not to see it. But the truth is I couldn't tell or think of anything but the forms that kept moving from flame to flame before disappearing with the wind.

I felt my mother's presence close to me, and then my eyes rolled back and I fell unconscious into her arms.

When I woke up, it was on the floor in what I can only describe as a dungeon, like in the stories my father used to tell me and my brother as children. 

Terribly disoriented, I had demanded to see me mother and to know what was going on, but no one answered me, and I never saw anyone but the local priest from the church, and that had been a day ago or so, then the next person I was with was dressed in dark cloth, not a single bit of skin to be seen, and they led me up the stairs and outside, I was confused and yet no one would try to help me. 

At first I did not understand what was happening, but then it clicked as I was forced to stand on top of dried grass clippings and wood as my hands were forced behind my back, and I was attached to a tall wooden pole. 

I saw the priest who had visited me in the dungeon, and realized he was not actually a priest, he was something very different. 

He had pointy ears and long slender fingers, he was short and the clothes he wore hung loosely on his body, he stared at me with sickly yellow eyes, looking over his long nose, and my voice died in my throat.

He wasn't a priest, he was a goblin.

I hadn't been expecting a goblin, so my mind made up something that made more sense to me. He could hide in the world that way, he was different things to different people, and to me, he was someone who read me my rights before I was to die. Though I had not known it at the time.

No one could see him as I did, and it would remain that way, because today was the day I was to die. And I wondered if it was pity I saw on his face as I called out for my mother, then my brother, and then I just called out, hoping that someone would hear. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt tears stream down my face, and when I opened them again the goblin was gone. 

I was alone aside for the person who brought me outside, and sobbed as a lit match was tossed silently at my feet. 

I felt every nerve screaming as the flames licked up my body, and I looked up at the early morning sky as I bit back screams, my eyes bloodshot and throat raw.

After sometime I lost consciousness, the pain was too much for my body, and when I woke up, I was in shock that I was alive. 

I laid on a bed, with the goblin to my left, weirdly dressed in a wedding dress, which certainly did not fit his style. I thought I was dead, but he explained to me that I was special, and that when I accidentally started at my mother's house and fainted, I kept waking up and saying things that were deemed as witchcraft, something so feared and considered wicked, that it was decided I was to be burned as my death. 

This still did not explain how or why it happened. I would eventually learn that I could absorb fire, it would still hurt, but when it touched my skin I would almost feed off its power.

Only the goblin knew this, I was assured, because he was the only one who remained behind to see me be burned for hours. It was quite a shock when instead of it killing me, I pulled the flames back into my body and was left on the ground, hurt yes, but not dead. 

My brother and mother would never see me again, as far as they knew I had died, though only my mother knew the truth of my death, no one knew I survived. 

I spent my years learning how to control my gift under the watchful eye of the goblin, I didn't move far from my brother, instead I loved in a treehouse a good 10 mile walk from my old home, and often in the few years after my 'death', I would send the goblin to check up on Toby and Blueberry, and I watched over them both until it became too painful. 

I traveled the whole of America as a teen, and then went on to explore Poland and Australia. 

It's been years since I last saw my goblin friend, but we still talk often through correspondence. I do not know what the future holds for me, I am now well into adulthood and still not fully mastered in my gift, but I fondly look back at that night where everything changed. Some for the good and some for the bad, but nevertheless, I hold onto the memory like a child holds a stuffed toy.

I remember how by the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire.