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Before it was over, she was wishing for the darkness again.
I am not Stephenie Meyer. I am not even, to the best of my knowledge, her long-lost cousin from Germany. Rats.
1. And the night was set aflame...
Word Count 261
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Then, pressure at my wrists and throat, with a gentleness that I have not felt in so long.
Warmth, a sensation that I have almost forgotten.
The warmth builds, builds until it is a feverish heat against my skin. It is almost painful now, a small fire, licking at my arms and legs.
The true fire breaks out, raging within me. Burning my very core. An endless, mindless blaze, relentless in its path of destruction. The pain is such that I cannot make a sound, though my body spasms and shakes with the ferocity of it.
Centuries later, it seems, the monotony of my torment is broken by one of my frequent visions, tinted red with the ever-present fire.
My dear, beloved sister, walking down the lane in the twilight, singing a familiar childhood tune….
Pattycake, pattycake baker’s man,
Bake me a cake as fast as you can
Roll it, and pat it, and mark it with a “B”
And put it in the oven…
If I had a choice between this hell and being baked like a cake, I would run to the oven with open arms.
The vision shifts suddenly as my sister switches tunes….
Ring around the rosy
A pocket full of posies
We all fall down
And back to the present, where the burning has shifted to a single, unbearable flame that eats away at my heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The burning reaches an unthinkably hot peak….