On Being Single“I don’t need no stupid love,” I once declaredIf only I could take those wordsLight them on fireAnd shove their ashes out of sight…if only.Now I do not fear deathBut I fear dying aloneMy love unspent as new snowFalling on a barren wastelandPermafrost is taking holdSeeping into my very soulStealing the joy from my heartFalling sharp as diamonds from my eyesOn nights as cold as thisWe curl up by the fireSafe in the arms of loveAnd strong with fate’s desireBut what to say of loneliness?Whose arms do I run to?Whose lips do I embrace?Whose fire do I curl up with?Do I dream of a nameless face?My love has turned to ashesFor it can burn no moreThere is no fuel to hold itFarewell, my lost amor.
The SparkHe burned them all, every single one.He hadn’t meant to, of course. They had simply gotten in his way. It wasn’t easy being a Fire Mage; Fire was not an easy thing to control. It was the most unwieldy of the elements, inclined to do what it pleased. Fire could be commanded, but only for so long. Eventually it would break the will of its master and go on a burning spree. Jacob tried to explain this to the villagers guarding the Earth Core, but they had not understood. He also tried to explain that he could not easily be harmed by their crude torches, but they still shoved Fire in his face, yelling insults and trying their best to turn him away.What else could he do but let the Fire go?Jacob recalled the stories his Grandpappy had told him when he was just a child. They were terribly intriguing stories about how Magic had come to exist on the planet. Humans were slowly destroying themselves, bit by bit and war by war. Pollution choked the sea and skies; blood sunk into the
I'm Telling You WhyAs Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, the scene of carnage unfolded. Sunlight winked off of bodies lying prone in the snow, while acrid smoke still curled from massive craters where grand houses used to be. Bits of gifts, decorations, and more unmentionable things littered the ground and the sound of weeping rent the frosty air.They had toiled all year to prevent his coming, but even the best of us screw up from time to time. The town's children gathered around the holes that were all that remained of their neighbors and friends. Holding hands, they recited the chant they repeated at this time every year:"He sees you when you're sleeping,He knows when you're awake,He knows if you've been bad or goodso be good for goodness sake..."A tourist who had been passing through town stumbled out of the local inn. He was a nice enough chap; he was just lonely. His Christmas Eve was spent folded over the bar counter. As his eyes adjusted to the glaring sunlight, he chok