Pyromania

PYROMANIA

he fell.
he landed with a sickening thud on the cavern floor.
it was cold. so cold. so silent. so dark.
The shadows crept up behind him and swallowed him whole. Lost, his wings torn, his fear ripping him apart.
It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
his head throbbed. his limbs fell weak. his heart screamed, threatening to break open his chest, threatening such a gory sight.
It hurts, it hurts, it burns.

that's it. that's it! a fire!
surely that will fix this.
the fire burned brighter than the hurt. it burned brighter than his thoughts.
the smoke made him dizzy, killing his worries.
killing the shadows. killing his pain.
he stumbled towards it. everything grew fuzzy.
it felt good.
he needed it.
he couldn't breathe without it.
every time he tried, the hurt would return, clogging up his throat, choking him.
he needed it.

brighter, brighter the fire burned, consuming everything around him.
he couldn't see. couldn't hear. couldn't feel his pain.
the flames licked at his feet.
it had eaten everything in its path.
ash settled on bodies strewn across the rubble of this little town, not too far from the cave he had crawled out of.
no matter how sunny the day was, no matter how bright it was up here, the pain of the dark never died.
without fire, all he could see were shadows.
he was petrified of the dark.
he couldn't go back to that place.
how terrible that everyone had to suffer for it.

and oh, how sick he must have been, to adopt the name of his illness.