FIRE DANCE

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. I’d gotten too close to her too soon, and I’d noticed the books before I could control it. Mrs. Simpson discarded the burning books as quickly as she could and jumped a few steps back to put as much distance as possible between her and the flames. She hissed, and then scoffed, and then contented herself with a scowl. That wasn’t the first run-in I’d had with Mrs. Simpson. We’d had many run-ins in the past, some as early as a few days before the encounter on the front porch that morning.

“The neighborhood weirdo strikes once again!” She mocked with a forced smile.

“Have a good day, Mrs. Simpleton.” My reply slackened her jaw. It wasn’t the first time I’d referred to her by that name, but it was the first time I’d said it to her face. The other times were with friends and acquaintances whenever the topic of her compulsive and intrusive attitude came up. Mrs. Simpleton was the community busy-body.

I pulled out my glasses from the case as I approached my car. I should have worn them before leaving the house, but for some reason, it skipped my mind. They were specially designed to prevent unfortunate situations like the one that had just happened. I would have preferred to have a contact-lens version of the glasses, but the technology was developing much slower than my imagination had.

As I drove away from my home and Mrs. Simpson, I cast my thoughts back to the moment when the first of many such ‘unfortunate situations’ occurred. I’d been sitting at the table in my room that evening, engaged in battle with my homework and trying to keep the frustration in check, but I was losing at both ends. I’d crumpled and tossed 7 sheets of paper chock full with all sorts of calculations and I still wasn’t getting anywhere with the assignment. As the eighth sheet of paper approached its limits, I reached my tipping point and slammed my fist on the table.

It happened instantly. The paper on which I’d been scribbling all sorts of calculations – many of which I’d conjured up from my imagination – suddenly burst into flames. I pushed backwards too quickly and my chair tipped over and fell backward. It was as I gathered myself off the ground that I noticed that it wasn’t just the paper on the table that was on fire, the other pieces of paper that I’d tossed in the trashcan were also on fire, and so was my school bag. It was when I heard screams from other parts of the house that I realized something serious had just happened. That night, what my family lost exceeded eight thousand leaves of paper. My father’s library – which, although small, had been filled to the brim with books – had been given a new paint-job. The white walls and furniture were converted to charred black.

Since I didn’t know for sure what happened, I didn’t blame myself for it. I thought something miraculous had happened – something that happened not so often, and since I couldn’t find any stories online of people with a similar experience, I concluded that this unique event only happened to a few people and they had all kept it private.

A few weeks later, when, during another episode of frustration, my examination paper began to burn alongside those of others, I knew this was no special event. Something was triggering it, and that something was me. 

My family’s journey to finding a solution for my “special need” began that day, and it would culminate in a meeting with a technology enthusiast whose observations caused him to conclude that the events only occurred when I was feeling intense emotions of any sort, he also concluded that the paper caught fire because I could see it. Whenever I couldn’t see it, he observed that nothing happened, so he concluded that the simplest solution was to create a device that would prevent me from seeing paper. The device would enable me lead a normal-ish life. The device came in the form of the glasses I now don on my face – for which he charged an arm and a leg. Despite having such a sizable pool of funds, for some reason, my contact-lens dream remained just that, a dream.

***

The trip to the woods was a short one. My friends and I had agreed to spend the day in the woods. The plan was to have a group picnic by the lake and then go cycling through the woods with our mountain bikes. We’d done it regularly in times past, but it had been a while since the last meet-up in the woods. We’d been so busy filling applications for college that we scarcely had time for anything else, and so when the opportunity came to unwind, we eagerly grabbed it with both hands. 

All seven of us had been friends since childhood. We’d lived in the same neighborhood for as long as we could remember, we attended the same schools, we’d had many sleepover parties through the years, and we were so familiar with each other’s families that it could be said that all seven families had been united into one during the course of our knowing each other. 

Despite our closeness as a group, we all had a member of the clique who we were closest to. This “coupling” happened gradually, the emotions slowly crept up on us. The odd one out of the group was Edward. He had a relationship with a girl from class, but she was too unbothered with the rest of us for us to bother inviting her to our meet-ups, so we agreed that she would remain an “outsider”. Although he didn’t like it, Edward had no option but to accept the decision of the group.

I was closest to Jack. We’d shared a kiss as kids and our connection had taken off from there. Although I loved him very deeply, sometimes I couldn’t tell if what we felt for each other came naturally or if it was due to the fact that year-in, year-out, we spent so much time around each other that we didn’t have any alternative but to fall for each other. I didn’t bother too much with these questions and doubts because I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what I would uncover if I dug too deep into it. What mattered was that we cared about each other and we took good care of each other. That was all I cared to know.

We decided to take it slow, so we began by cycling around the lake. As we maneuvered through the forest, each of us tried to outdo the other. We’d discovered bike tricks years earlier and since then, we’d actively tried to outperform each other. 

It was while we were displaying the tricks we’d mastered that Jake noticed it. I’d been cycling behind him, and when he turned to check up on me, he noticed something strange. It was so strange that he squeezed the brakes on the bike and screeched to a stop. The sound of the bike coming to an abrupt halt drew the attention of the others, they immediately noticed what he’d noticed. The confused looks on their faces prompted me to follow their gaze, and what I saw made my jaw drop.

There was thick smoke rising up from the woods into the sky. A quick investigation with my eyes led me to realize that the trees that flanked the bush-path we were cycling on were all on fire. The fire extended around the lake and stopped where we left our makeshift tents and the baskets with which we’d transported food for our picnic.

Jake turned to me with a worried look. “I thought you said it only works with paper.”

I nodded my head vigorously. I was just as confused as he was. “Yes, it has only ever happened with paper.”

He returned his gaze to the burning trees and the smoke. We all watched, helplessly, as the fire spread from tree to tree. 

It was one thing for fire to appear from nowhere and engulf pieces of paper which were sometimes worthless, that could be managed if appropriate measures are taken. It was a much bigger issue when a forest which served as the emblem and pride of the state was going up in flames.

“I think we have a big problem on our hands.”

Just then, the trees around us burst into flames, sending tiny bits of wood flying in all directions.