Fueling The Fire Novels & Stories

There was a fire place which they made in order to keep themselves warm. All of them where seen gathered around the fire like it was a committee of witches having their meeting, planning on a mission to devour. Each of them was putting on thick article of clothing to help the body warm faster. The cold was much like it was winter. It’s a known phenomenon that areas surrounded by water are most often cool especially the cool breeze that makes one thing that he or she was about to freeze. That’s because, during the day, the sun heats hard on the ground producing heat that helps warm the rivers, then at night, the river produced immense cool breeze that helps to keep the ground cold. It exhibit

“What happened the first time you caught fire?” Looking straight ahead, I said, “I don’t want to talk about it.” “I’m asking because I want to figure out what your triggers are,” he clarified. “Fear,” I responded, still not looking at him. “I suppose that’s a start. How many times have you caught fire?” “Four.” Maybe if I were short with my answers, he would stop asking. He sighed. “Then you are just starting to set into your immortality. What do you know about fighting?”

Someone played with fire and I would assure that they would get burned into ashes. #TBC

He stared at me for a long while before getting back up on his feet. A loud crack of thunder was heard outside the hut. The sky continued to rumble with thunder as we gazed greedily and lustfully at each other. … Neither one of us told anyone about our rendezvous in the hut that night. However, we had a nightly ritual now before going to bed every night. The chat window with my second number had now become a place for us to reveal our deepest, darkest desires. We kept video calling each other in secret at night as we vented out our school stress and turned it into sexual pleasure.

The world seemed pretty and welcoming on the outside, but on the inside, it was a dying sickening world that tried to crush your very soul. “She’s here because of you! You ruined this family because of her.” “She’s still my daughter, no matter what you say. I will not throw her out!” I sighed muting out the words my father and Jackson exchanged and watched the dancing flames within the fireplace. Sharp flames that crackled against the crisp woods. The blazes of the fire roared to life as the woods took their last breath on earth, before crumbling away into smoke... ashes. Fire was a powerful source of heat to the cold, yet also a source of danger to the burning.. to the dying. Like Ferdinand

Inside, the fire of vengeanc e has just found its breath. And it will not be extinguished until it has consumed everything in its path.

My thoughts kept circling around Zinnia, and I kept pushing those thoughts away. Suddenly, a poem popped into my head; In my head, I am fighting fire with fire. The flames are getting bigger and brighter. I can hear it crashing. I can feel it burning. I am tossing, and I am turning. I am burning, and I am screaming. I am crying out for help. Why are they not putting the fire out? They are making it bigger. It is burning faster. I can feel it spreading through my body. Why are they making it worse?

he hissed, bending his head closer. "Wrong move," I growled, shooting my hand up to grasp his wrist, channeling intense heat into his bones. "Now!" I yelled at my dad as I dropped the walls, forcing the last of my fire's reserves into the man's bloodstream. I let my own power surge into him at the same time, stealing what remained of his life while the fire literally cooked him from the inside.

"And fuel. And heat." "Very good. Fire needs three things. Take one away, the fire goes out. Yes?" All three children nodded. "Mr. Kyle's immune system is like a fire. It needs fuel—the things it fights against, like germs and sickness. It needs oxygen—the signals from other parts of the body telling it what to attack. And it needs heat—the inflammation, the fever, the energy to keep fighting." He gestured with his hands as he spoke, making shapes in the air that the children followed with their eyes.

“That one, it’s different. It doesn’t come out often. But when it does I can't tell it’s bad.” Mira’s smile faded a little. She looked serious now. “The fire is stronger,” she said. “It’s more dangerous than the lightning. Not just because it burns, but because of what it feeds on.” “What do you mean?” I raised a brow. “It’s tied to your anger,” she said. “But also your pain. Your loss, your rage. The fire in you isn’t just heat, it's emotion made real.” I blinked, unsure of what to say. “So I shouldn’t use it?”