"Fire" by Fred J. Hu

Fire

“I can’t do it.”

“Shut up, that’s for me to say.”

“I can’t do it!”

“Yes, you can.”

Two small boys seemed to be in a heated conversation just on the outskirts of a nearby town, partially hidden by some thick underbrush that made up the side of the paved road. The smaller of the two boys, who was hardly any bigger than the mess of half-dead plants that surrounded him, was waving his hand around rather ridiculously and complaining every third second. His hair, a rustic-red color, was so often darkened by the dirt he played in nowadays; for the moment it was clean and flying around wildly behind him as he repeated his little hand-motion over and over again. His marvelous green eyes sparkled with a mixture of doubt and amusement; he seemed to be enjoying this immensely. He was wearing a food-stained green knitted sweatshirt with what seemed to be a combination of large, white, bird droppings on parts it, making the plaid pattern of the sweater oddly jagged.  His pants were of the standard uncomfortable brown-leather make, but they too showed signs of wear, being darned and mended every few inches down. He was also the obviously better dressed of the two.

The larger boy was wearing a faded full-body tunic that had definitely seen much better days; perhaps even time on royal shoulders, from the strange, outlandish design. Now, though, the main color of the shirt had turned to a disgusting deep brown, due to the numerous cheap leather patches where the material had been sewn over. The green pants had been patched over with bits of excess cloth around the neck and arms, but were otherwise untouched. The occasional purple and orange coloring on the shirt left over was just visible under the a few spots where the shirt had escaped dirt and other unsightly blemishes, except for the blots of a deep, crimson color that seemed to be spread out all around the whole piece of clothing. A substance that, upon closer inspection, looked alarmingly like…blood.

The larger boy seemed to be the one directing the strange exercise that was taking place. They were out of sight from prying eyes; this was not a well-traveled road.

The smaller one kept going through an odd series of motions: First, he would flap his arms absurdly about, rather like a chicken trying to take off. After he tired of this, he would squint his eyes and stare directly into the sun for a few seconds. Then, he would give a squawk of surprise as he ran around, waving his arms around again with increased vigor, temporarily blinded.

After a few rounds of this, the little boy would occasionally break down and start complaining to the other, who would reassure him with a stiff nod or smile.

“I can’t do it!” He panted again, finally stopping, his breath coming in deep, comical gasps.

“Try again,” The larger one sighed, rubbing his temples. He seemed to be tiring out as well, having squatted by the roadside for several hours.

The smaller boy jutted out his chin defiantly, with childish contempt for the other boy etched all over his face. He obeyed the command nonetheless, albeit reluctantly.

But this time, something was different.

After a few minutes, he proceeded with the usual routine of staring directly into the sun. This time, instead of continuing on with his exercise, he turned back to the other once more to complain, but instead of the usual impatient wave, he saw a triumphant smile on his face. The small boy’s head swiveled quickly to see what he was looking at. When he did, he found himself transfixed as he watched a large flame roaring through the underbrush. The fire ate greedily through many of the nearby plants and brush, at an unreal speed. Within a matter of seconds, almost all of the greenery within a ten-foot radius of the boys was gone, burned completely down to ashes. But as it neared them, it disappeared as soon as it came. Several wisps of smoke drifting skyward and the ashes on the ground, the only evidence that the flame had ever been. As the small boy turned gaping toward the other, he saw the smile had turned into a giddy grin.

“Great. Now let’s try that on a human.”