The man crawled away, gasping. Fire was raging all around him, burning through the building. He had been in it far too long; he was choking on the smoke. He struggled to his feet. A part of the ceiling narrowly missed him as it fell. He coughed as he staggered towards the exit.
Then something blew up to his right. The man was taken off his feet, and the raging fire was everywhere. He moaned and tried to get up. Then he saw him.
A person standing there, not bothered at the least by the flames. In fact, the flames seemed to focus on the person. With the burning fire behind them, the man couldn’t see who it was, or even what gender. Then he caught a glimpse of the face
“No,” he whispered. “No. Have mercy, please.”
All he got was a sadistic grin in return for his pleas. Then the person raised their fist. Fire swirled around it, waiting to be unleashed. The fist was brought down, and fire flew at the man, ready to burn everything in its path.
Chapter One- Dreams of Flame
Simon Leanings wasn’t quite normal. He lived with his mother; and had no idea what happened to his father, though he suspected he left them a long time ago. He had no siblings. His mothers work made them move constantly, so he never spent more than a few months in one place. He had no friends, he had to hobbies. He was sick of moving, though he would never tell his mother that. She would be shattered. They only had each other, and she thought he liked the moving.
“So what do you think of the new place?” His mother asked. They always rented, they didn’t have a place of their own.
“It’s good,” he admitted. It actually was pretty good, two stories and it looked very expensive. This wasn’t a good thing though. Simon could tell how long they would stay somewhere by the house which they would live in. If it was expensive, like this one, it wouldn’t be long. If it was cheap, then it would be a while. Simon preferred the cheap houses. If it meant there was a chance or some normality, then he would live in a one room apartment.
Simon was thirteen years old, but he felt older. He was tall, which sandy blonde hair. Because he moved around so much, he once spent a good part of his summer at a beach, and he picked up a talent for surfing. But he hadn’t surfed in over a year. He didn’t have any friends worth keeping contact with. Having only a few weeks normally to get to know someone made it a little hard to get to know them enough. So, after a while, he just stopped trying to make friends.
He walked inside, not taking in any of the grand rooms. He walked upstairs, picked a room and dumped all his stuff in it. He didn’t really care about houses. Tomorrow he would be going to a new school, and that was always brutal. He never got any time to settle in. The amount of time they spent moving, if he took time to settle in each move, then his education will be seriously lacking.
Although it really was now. All the schools had different ways of teaching, and were at different parts. So sometimes he was ahead of the rest of his class, but most of the time he was behind.
He sighed. Although it was only about half past eight, he decided to get some sleep. He laid down in his new bed, and closed his eyes.
Simon was at his new school. He was walking down a corridor, but there was no one around. No one was there, the school was empty. His footsteps echoed, the only sound that could be heard. No, there was something else. The hint of a sort of crackling sound. Just the vaguest hint. And the smell of something. Smoke. It made Simon’s eyes water.
Simon rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was surrounded by fire. Burning, hurtful fire was everywhere. Smoke was in the air, and Simon was choking on it. Simon staggered back, but the fire was all around him. Then he saw the person.
The fire swarmed around whoever it was, as if the flames were living. The person was cast in shadow, impossible to make out. Then the person turned around, and looked straight at Simon.
He couldn’t move. For a moment nothing happened, but then the person nodded, and thrust out their hand. The fire flared, and flew towards Simon as if they were hungry animals. Simon screamed.
Simon sat up, panting. For a moment he was convinced he was still surrounded by fire, then reality got a hold of him.
“Just a dream,” he muttered.
He was terrified of fire. One of his earliest memories was of fire, though he had no idea what happened. Whenever he asked his mother, she refused to say anything.
Simon looked down at his left arm. There was a burn there, in the shape of a hand, like some sort of creature made of fire had gripped him. The hand was smallish, like whatever had done it had little hands. It was near his elbow, so as long as he wore long clothes, no one would see it. He always wondered how he got it, but all his mother would say was it was an accident.
Worried about so many things, Simon found it hard to fall asleep after that. But, after a few hours, he drifted off into dreams made of fire, and the occasional person, cast in shadow.