Winter Fire

The despair of December’s cold loomed over everyone’s head. Bitter cold creeping up and down your body, that annoying thick vapour following your every breath. The odd sensation of red numbness in our hands. Sick and tired of this frosty month. Yet you had people paired together, arms locked as they chuckled their way through the lit streets. I suppose the only way to escape this cold dastardly despair was having someone, feeling the warmth of their love. Must get sickeningly stuffy in the summer. I for one didn’t need any warmth, quite to the contrary I was feeling hot, sickeningly hot I thought ironically, despite this warmth swelling inside of me, my body still felt numb. I rubbed my hands together trying to regain feel of my hands again, staring at them intently as I rubbed harder, it was hurting but the numbness still didn’t fade, not even a bit. As if searching for something or waiting for something I kept going. I stood still for what felt like forever, all the laughter and echoes of people’s steps fading away, the only thing left was the red numbness. Wait, what was I doing in the first place? My arms dangled lifeless to my side as I looked up snapped out of my trance. I shook my head furiously and slumped my way back to my walk.

I sighed heavy as I trudged my feet across the soaked pavement. I should be careful I noted to myself as I didn’t want to slip and cause myself any further pain. I hurled my backpack over my shoulders adjusting it on both as it was slipping off my left shoulder. Its seen better days, now a rugged brown faded bag with tears across it. It was patterned with the moon all over the straps and one massive one at the front, all of which had slowly faded away, yet somehow if you looked to it hard enough, I swear I could make out a smile. I mean he served his purpose all these years, done his job and even now still doing it. I scoffed as I thought to all the memories associated to him, perhaps this may be his last use. I envied him, as he had done his job unlike me, at least he helped us… unlike me.

The grey sky hung over our heads like a creepy puppet. The foreboding air of gloom and doom lingered in the air. The sun pitted against the endless valley of grey, not even a single peak of light able to muster its way through. Looking to the sky was almost eerie, how easy was it to blanket a source of light and heat. How easy was it to cover up the symbiote of joy and sunshine? I slapped my cheeks as I caught myself spiralling down a repeated chain of thoughts that I have become a bit too familiar with. Darkness slowly shrouded over the sky, the usual flurry of fire in the sky unbeknownst to it as if it had never existed, not a single hue of orange to be seen, just a single canopy of darkness. It bemused me how the fiery sun had no recognition, yet its counterpart, the dark cold night stood firmly alone letting all know of its arrival, making it blatantly apparent. As the street lamps flickered on and the neon signs of shops shining almost as if celebrating the arrival of darkness.

I took shelter in a local pub. Bustling with people around this time of day as they all indulged in idle chatter drinking away the work week, a temporary halt to their lives as if it won’t just come barging back again in just two days. I hung my head low as I grabbed my cold drink and took a few sips of it. I felt hot. I let my sullen gaze survey the room, hardly paying attention to the inhabitants, I was more interested in the interior. The walls were a murky green, all the furniture looked pretty old and torn, it was definitely giving me some Brontë vibes. Can’t say I hated it, love stories about unrequited loves. I smiled softly at that thought. Maybe the furniture wasn’t old, it was just untouched. Not a care given to upkeep it, not a care to repair its damage. For once that evening I looked to the bar and actually processed the people. What seemed to be the owner laughing away all giddy pouring drinks recklessly spilling it over the counter, clumsily breaking glass all over the place. Its not the place, its always the people who ruin. An orange glimmer caught the corner of my eyes as I turned my head to it, a fire. Lit in a very Victorian looking fireplace, it roared there gently. It stared at me, I stared at it back, there was an uncanny familiarity, sparks between us, the fire cascading its flashes of orange and yellow. It was clear, almost like looking into a reflection.

The doors of the pub opened for the umpteenth time. Each time letting in a breath of cold air tugging on the spines of everyone in the room as some annoyingly remarked on it, others unbothered to it. I was part of the latter, feeling as hot as ever. Until now I had ignored everyone that had newly walked in, didn’t even cast them a glance, but this time the air felt thick. I could sense the footsteps approaching my direction. They were soft steps yet amongst the crowd I could pick up on them perfectly. Her steps were different, everything about her was different, I was all too familiar with her strut. She walked so confidently yet staggered. I pulled my head up, it felt like led. There she was as I suspected or rather as I knew. Even in a congested pub on a weekend night she stood out like a star in the sky. No, that wasn’t it. The night sky is littered with stars in all directions, it was just this one particular star that I decided to focus on.

 Cela. “Moon”, “heavenly”. Just some definition to her name, they described her well. With her it felt like paradise on Earth. The lunar charm she possessed was unlike anything I had ever felt. A guide in the dark, a friend when the brightness of the sun had gone to sleep. Carrying all that darkness of the world on her small shoulders yet still smiling that beautiful smile. Cela had been stopped in her tracks to meet me by some friends that were in the pub. She gave me a smile acknowledging that she’s seen me and gave me this look of reassurance that she’ll be with me soon. I tapped on the edge of my glass. I noticed my face the entire day has been stuck with the same expression. My cheeks felt stiff, my lips felt tight, I couldn’t bring myself to smile, as if I wanted to anyways. I sideway glanced at Cela, she seemed happy talking to her friends, I haven’t seen her smile and laugh like that in a long time. I knew the reason why of course. I could feel the heat of the fireplace tickling at my sides. I turned to it again, I felt some comfort looking at it. Maybe because I felt like it was looking back at me. I stared at it for what felt like forever, odd, déjà vu. As the fire cackled that’s when it hit me. Its not the fire that’s staring back at me, its me, I’m staring back at me.

I hauled the tattered bag to the counter and laid it down gently. I pulled out a piece of paper from it and wrote down a note on it. I left it there and snapped away from it as I headed for the door. Cela caught wind of it and raced to me and grabbed my wrist, I turned to her and snapped my hand away from her soft grasp.

“I can’t keep burning you, I’ll save you from me, I love you enough to let go and stop hurting you” I softly. I don’t even know if she heard, it didn’t matter, I had to save her from this fire. I stormed out and met with the cold embrace of winter. I scoffed and shook my head, rolling my eyes. Without anything to burn, finally this winter fire will be dowsed.