Movements - An Extract

I am walking through fire.

I feel it burn at my ankles. The flames brush against my skin, each flame doing more and more damage. I run my hand across the tops the flames, heating up my palms. Slowly, I move my hand in front of me, watching as the flames dance around my palms. Red. Orange. Yellow. I smile as they die and rise, over and over. I clench my fists, instantly killing the fire in my palm. Once I have clenched my fists, blood starts to seep out of my fists and starts to run into the fire at my feet. The flames start to dance higher and higher, turning various different shades of red. I open my fists, allowing the blood seep from my hands. There are no cuts on either of my hands. The blood is seeping from the dead flames, now buried under my skin. I can see the flames under my skin, casting their reds, oranges and yellows through my transparent skin. They make me look alive. They make me feel alive.

Like I am a blank canvas and those colours are being painted onto me. I am the fire. It is inside of me.

I look on either side of me. Straight into the darkness. But I know. I know there are eyes watching me everywhere, eyes belonging to those who want me. Who own me. The eyes belonging to those who chose me. Who worship me. I am theirs now. Those eyes belong to the people who will look up to me. Who will worship the ground I walk on and the flames I possess under my very skin. I am the phoenix. I am the fire.

My hands are not shaking. I am relaxed. I am calm. There is no room for hysterical actions or hysterical behaviour. I didn’t ask for this but it is mine now and I have learnt to accept that. I accept my fate. I own it. I stand by it.

I reach the end of the flame pathway. I step onto the stone, feeling my feet cool down under the cold of the stone. I raise my arms slowly above my head. The fire behind me instantly dies and I am alone in the darkness. Alone with the eyes. But I am still alone.

I cup my hands in and blindly blow onto them. Flames come alive in my hand and I smile at the sight of them. I sperate my hands, expecting the fire to die.

The flames stay alive.

They still in the air, roaring and snapping, fighting against each other to see who will live the longest. I take a step backwards and watch as the flames start to levitate into the air.

Higher.

Higher.

Higher.

They stop suddenly.

Instead of dying, the flames explode. They illuminate the room. The flames enter the lanterns. The chandeliers attached to the ceiling. They illuminate everything, soaking in the darkness.

I extend my arms out on either side of me and close my eyes. I feel my body heat up to a temperature I didn’t know was possible. I feel my hands burn and the colours under my skin glow brighter. I am the fire. I am the phoenix.

I am the hell.