Burning Leaves

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. From the once-green leaves hanging on the unnamed tree standing tall in front of my gates; to the small, budding leaves from the little chilli plants I gave my dad two weeks ago; and the fallen leaves scattered on the porch - all were crackling away villainously.

I was thrilled. I was scared. I was relieved - It was such a blessing to live in a neighbourhood where no one comes out in the afternoon. Sure, the year I lost my favourite piggybank (full of coins, waiting to be broken) in a burglary that either went unnoticed, or unreported, or both, I cursed this damned apathy to hell. But back then I was a victim, not a perpetrator. The wind has changed direction. Or maybe not. 

Certain that my perverse curiosity would be safe from prying eyes, I bent my knees, the forefinger on the left gingerly reaching out for a burning leaf. I was ready to withdraw my hand in a split second, but the outrush of heat that I was expecting did not happen. Dazed and confused, the unexpected sensation left me paralysed. 

The brushing of Princess’s fur against my thigh jolted me to my senses. Holding the fiery leaf by its stem, I tickled the orange tabby cat’s cheek with the dancing flame. She narrowed one eye but made no serious attempt to retreat. I prodded her with the leaf once more. Annoyed, she raised her furry paw to brush my hand aside before sauntering to the garment rack. A blazing dry leaf hanging loosely on the tip of the rack landed on Princess’s body as she scratched herself but she paid no attention to it. She rolled over and settled herself comfortably on her favourite pile of old rags.    

I sat myself down on the low wall separating the porch and the garden to recall the moments of humiliation that was most deeply seared into my memory once more. 

Caleb, my little cousin brother and I attended the same kindergarten when I was five. With my trusty sidekick by my side, I explored the new environment with excessive and undeserved confidence. I enchanted little Caleb with countless tales for every bug and flower we stumbled upon, but when he tugged at my sleeves and showed a sincere eagerness to queue for the then occupied swings, my confidence wavered. With Caleb being my only subject, I was a proud and content Queen who saw no needs in expanding my territory.

But I was a Queen, and Queens do not quiver. Not on the outside, at least. So we queued, and sooner than I wanted it to happen,  it was our turn. Caleb was ecstatic. The onlooking rulers and subjects from foreign lands were diplomatic. I heaved a sigh of relief in my heart, keeping my fingers crossed for peace to last.

Alas, it didn’t. Caleb’s ecstasy sent him flying in the air, landing with a clumsy ‘thud!’. One by one, the curious rulers and subjects from the faraway lands gathered around the Great Fall of Caleb, forming a circle. They were greeted by the comedic sight of a pitiful boy sprawled across the ground, one side of his face distorted as it was crushed against the cold, hard floor. Laughter erupted. It grew and echoed, thunderous and sonorous, infectious and malicious.

The subject’s watery eyes caught the Queen’s gleeful eyes amid the jarring laughter. Mouth still wide open, the Queen stole glances at the rulers nearby. She only brought her mouth to a close slowly when it was plain that no one was paying any attention to her.   

The Queen wished to believe that she had helped her subject up in the end, but the only thing she could recall was the pleading eyes, the deafening laughter and the unforgiving guilt.   

Princess’s yowl yanked me out of the beginning of a series of memories that the well-reasoned side of me wished to forget, but couldn’t because the laughable side of me was holding onto it far too tightly. I turned my head to the direction of my furry pet, only to find her gawking at a still-burning leaf nearby with a look of pure resentment. Instinctively, my hand searched for the nearest leaf. The warmth that radiated to my fingers proved me right: the intense emotions stemming from the hatred I felt for my shameful actions possess scorching potential. 

Oh, but why would I need to have it proved? Didn’t this peculiar ability trouble me so much that I sought help from a healer? And with her guidance, didn’t I learn to separate the emotions from the memories of the actions, thereby disassociating the heat from the flames? And didn’t I make it my goal to keep practising until I become a normal girl, living in a normal town who would not set nearby leaves on fire whenever she gets emotional - just like every other normal girl? Surely I yearn to join the normal people in their normal daily conversations, laughing along with normal silly nonsense, without the fear of letting anything abnormal slip out of my mouth?

Princess nestled itself into my lap and started to purr. Perhaps it was my imagination, but the upward curve of her eyes and mouth appeared to be taunting me, as if it could see through my secret desire to be different from others, even if it could bring harm to me and the ones I love. With her soft, melodious purr, she quietly mocked me for my silent pride in the abnormality that I could not speak of. 

You speak of normalcy as if it

Is a prize you long to win

You speak of blending in as if it 

Is a shield you need to wield

But when you set 

The world on fire

You watch it burn

And burn

And through the smoke and 

blaze

I thought I 

Saw your 

lips 

curl.

If only I could refute! But I knew her sardonic tune rang true. 

The heat grew as the burning of the leaves nearby continued.