Love’s Carnage
Two silhouettes approached the firepit from either side of the forest, eyeing each other in the near darkness. Dusk had just sent its last light blazing through the sky, but the trees cast odd shadows that cavorted and danced across the leaf-filled ground. All around evidenced decay and darkness, but in the middle of the clearing rested a large and ancient form of firepit. Surrounded by stones to keep the flames from spreading, it invoked a certain sense of awe and amazement.
As the two silhouettes approached the pit, they attempted to size each other up, but it was too dark to see. Bending at the waist, they began to gather wood and twigs as they walked, picking up the necessary supplies to create a fire. Together they staged the wood so that it would light easily, and now all they were missing was a spark. This, the woman provided, snapping her fingers and bringing forth a light that soon encapsulated the dry timber. Reluctant at first, the flames eventually brightened, revealing the two faces for the first time: that of a beautiful woman, hair the color of red-gold, and of a man wearing a chiseled jawline and a slight smirk.
They stood as one, circling each other, and talking quietly amongst themselves for a moment. The fire flared upwards with their every word, and finally, the woman relaxed, smiling and embracing the other. He returned the hug, and they continued to converse in whispers. Soon, he leaned as if to kiss her, yet she pulled away at the last moment, laughing, taking his hand, and dragging him forward. The man followed along to the middle of the clearing, and she showed him the steps of a simple dance. He hesitated at first, but she simply shrugged off his confusion, twirling him around and leading him through the correct motions. Soon, he got the hang of it, and the genuine smile that swirled across his features made him all the more handsome.
They danced to the light of the fire, their movements picking up speed, each burning with a passion more fevered than the last. Alone, they twirled to a melody only they could hear, the fire spreading through their veins and enveloping them with a burning desire. For hours they danced, introducing new styles, steps, and flourishes in every motion. When she turned to face the fire again, sweat visibly coursed down the side of the woman’s face, but her smile was enough to set the man’s blood tingling with energy, emotion, and—most of all—love.
Slowly their dance became more measured, tiring with their bodies. The fire flickered, but it did not die, growing even stronger when the man drew the woman closer into his arms. They stilled as one body, and her face tilted upwards to meet his. They kissed under the stars, and together the fire they had built with their bodies and energy flared even higher. The salty taste of sweat mingled with the flavor of their lips, and at the heat of their passion, the fire flamed higher than it ever had before.
Yet, suddenly frightened by the flames, the man pulled away. The light betrayed his alarmed expression, and the woman stumbled back, surprised and embarrassed. Her harsh words, spoken in anger, were lost to the night, but the man’s face hardened, and he responded in kind. The fire lunged forth, embers blazing in hostility, and sparks began to fly, threatening to set the neighboring grasses alight. Neither paid it any mind, too busy arguing with each other, delivering words brought forth from hate and fear.
Untended, the sparks blazed among the dead leaves, no longer contained by the dark stones sheltering the pit. The red-gold of the flames mirrored the color of the woman’s hair as they swept wildly around her, and the man soon saw what was happening and the danger they were in. Pointing and crying out, he ran to grab a sandbag that had been propped casually against a far-off tree in case of emergency. Conflict momentarily forgotten, the woman followed, stumbling from smoke inhalation.
He tried to shove her backwards, forcing her to remain in the position of relative safety, but she refused, taking up a sandbag and following him in the roaring flames. Tackling the fire separately, they began to beat back the embers, squashing and suffocating the flames until they could be controlled. Each step left singed ashes in its remains, but at least the desolation spread no further than the areas already affected in the clearing.
Constantly, collapse from the smoke and their own exhaustion threatened to overtake the two of them. However, by the time that dawn appeared at the edge of the horizon, only one flame, a miniature spark, remained. Looking around at the trees he had managed to save, the man realized that the roles had been reversed, and he devoted the rest of his energy to trying to protect and strengthen the last of the flame. The woman hesitated for a moment, weighing her options, but she turned her nose up at the sight of him crawling on his knees in the mud. Recalling the bonfire of a few moments before, she marched over, dropping the sandbag at his side. He looked up, and she took the opportunity to use her boot to grind the spark into the sand. When she drew her foot away, it had been squashed, never to awaken again.
Momentarily reconsidering, she stood above the man—a silhouette once more—who hunched on his knees before her, shoulders heaving with unconstrained emotion. She contemplated remaining at his side, but she only shook her head in disgust, turning and trekking back into the forest from whence she had come.
The man remained there for awhile longer, but by the time that sun had fully risen on the carnage wrought by an untamed love, even he had slunk away.
