At that moment, the front door opened, the creaking of wood echoing throughout the empty cabin. "My own fire!" He exclaimed to the empty room. All he had to do was think about fire and viola. With a squeeze of his hand, the flame vanished.Įvan took a deep breath before lifting his left hand up and opening it so the palm was flat. The boy's eyes widened as he realised his hand wasn't on fire, it was just holding the flame. Evan yelped and leapt backwards, pulling his hand up to his face to examine the tiny flame on it. The second his fingers touched one of the dancing flames, the itchiness ceased and a tiny flame sprung from the pal of his hand. Evan lifted his right hand and reached forward. As the boy leaned nearer to the fire, his hands began to get itchy, like they wanted to touch the flames. The heat touched his face, warming his rosy cheeks. "Pretty fire." The 6-year-old boy murmured to himself, leaning forward a little to admire the flames. But didn't Aunt Georgina warn him about flames? He wasn't sure. Evan waited in silence until he heard the front door slam before turning back to the fire, watching the flames dance to the rhythm of the crackling wood. The man walked over and ruffled the boy's black locks before walking out of the room. "Yes, Uncle Benny!" He replied, watching his uncle from the floor. Aunt Georgina will be back soon from the village, ok? You'll be alright by yourself?" The man asked, whilst zipping up his snow jacket. "Evan, I'm going out to find more firewood.
A burly man walked into the room, lowering his head to shuffle through the wooden doorframe. The boy's dark, floppy hair dangled over his eyes as he sat on the home-knitted rug, entranced by the flames in front of him. 19th December 2008 - Somewhere in the Far North Region, Alaska, USAĪ boy sat by the fireplace, while the wind and snow battered the woodland outside the cabin's windows.
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