Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
“Oooh, yes,” she echoed, grin still there, gaze analyzing and imagining the potential of upheaval. A slow burn, light on the kindling and fuel until they could really incense and rile the crowd up for shenanigans, complete the task – then see where they were when it became a riotous show.
So she helped arrange the necessary parts while he put on his spectacle – going back and forth between watching him (and trying not to laugh; she knew very well that now it was something automatic and natural), and the people starting to glance his way as words were uttered. Some looked like they were fearful, perhaps those old Abandoned hatred sentiments, and their stillness set her on edge, immediately standing up straighter, pondering how quickly she could annihilate someone before they got close to him –
But then there were others too, milling about, pausing to watch, kids grasping and pulling on their parents’ hands, wanting to get closer, phrases passing through because curiosity might have spread more than hate these days. She didn’t know.
Thereafter was the great roar of the fire, the press of images flickering through, and she clapped alongside several others, purposefully patting him on the shoulder for reassurance, and her own method of snagging at the incantations; to copy and mimic, to feel the flames course through her skin as well. Figuring she’d assist in being part showman too, she cupped her hands around her mouth, began announcing in louder tones than kiosks and merchants. “Anyone willing to step up to the challenge of becoming the Best Fire Leaper?” Arching her brow back at Iskra, thinking he’d start on demonstrations, she then lined herself up to also participate.
So she helped arrange the necessary parts while he put on his spectacle – going back and forth between watching him (and trying not to laugh; she knew very well that now it was something automatic and natural), and the people starting to glance his way as words were uttered. Some looked like they were fearful, perhaps those old Abandoned hatred sentiments, and their stillness set her on edge, immediately standing up straighter, pondering how quickly she could annihilate someone before they got close to him –
But then there were others too, milling about, pausing to watch, kids grasping and pulling on their parents’ hands, wanting to get closer, phrases passing through because curiosity might have spread more than hate these days. She didn’t know.
Thereafter was the great roar of the fire, the press of images flickering through, and she clapped alongside several others, purposefully patting him on the shoulder for reassurance, and her own method of snagging at the incantations; to copy and mimic, to feel the flames course through her skin as well. Figuring she’d assist in being part showman too, she cupped her hands around her mouth, began announcing in louder tones than kiosks and merchants. “Anyone willing to step up to the challenge of becoming the Best Fire Leaper?” Arching her brow back at Iskra, thinking he’d start on demonstrations, she then lined herself up to also participate.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
