Flashes of Fiction: Ashes

A spark, it started

A flickering spick of light that blossomed into a full-tilt passion.

A rage

A wrath

A fury

And she loved it.

The rage was right and righteous

In that moment

So momentous

And she loved it.

It burned so bright

That it grew and grew and she grew to love it more than love

She made herself a tinderbox

And matchstick forest for the fire.

No need, in time, for righteousness

No need for any reason

She found her wrath so beautiful

She fed its flame

Her heart

And soul

And life,

To watch it eat.

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