A Fiery Tongue

Editor’s Note: This is no lie. This really happened.

Several times over many centuries there have been few who could hear the fire’s language. This is absolutely no lie. My friend, who chooses to keep her name hidden from all, was one of these people. While I was sitting on my bed, the young woman sat looking at a flame in a lit lighter, swearing that the flame was saying it had a lust to keep burning. She called me over to blow out a newly lit candle we had lit during a power surge. She said that this flame needed to live and that she refused to put it out. When I asked her why, she said the flame was crying and scared. ‘You see here? He is shaking. That is not because of the wind. There is no wind in here. He is scared to be put out. He does not want to die. That is why he is shaking.’ She said as I looked at her quizzically. These may seem human emotions but the way she pitied the flame surprised me. She then said it was happy as she relit the candle with the one special flame. ‘Look! He is dancing for us!’ She said smiling. I looked at her as though she was crazy. Male? ‘How do you know it’s a man?’ I asked her. She held the flame to me. ‘The way he moves. You see?’ I didn’t under stand her, but didn’t question further. I looked at all the other flames and candles. I wondered how she could hear them. How could she know who and what they were? I listened carefully, but heard nothing. She sat over by the computer, stroking the one flame. How did she not burn? She was just sitting there, her finger directly over the flame, stroking it lovingly. She told me what the other candles were thinking. One of them I particularly favored, reminded me of my boyfriend. She told me to keep the one special flame lit as long as I could, and it lived, for hours on end, it thrived. She knew it was a special flame, just as she said, ‘this one needs to live’ the flame kept lit deep into the morning hours, and if it hadn’t run out of wick it probably would never go out.