Winds of Fire

Once, there was a young boy. A young boy who, by nature, could be very focused, very driven and very determined when he wanted to be. What the young boy, Yao, loved more than anything else was night time, before bed when the sky would darken and his tribe would light a big fire.
"Yao!" his mother would always say as his eyes lit up bright at what, for him, never failed to be a novelty. "Be careful!"

Yao loved the fire; the way it danced in the air, the warming quality it brought to the wind that swirled around him, the vibrant colours, illuminating the otherwise pitch black of the sky. Often, the dancing flames seemed to act like a hypnotic, completely capturing him so to the rest of the world, he was lost. His mother looked on from a small distance, wide eyed. She'd try to capture his attention, but Yao didn't even seem to hear her at all. Instead, he moved forward at a snail's pace, barely an inch at a time.

The flame was given only a moment to lick at the side of the young boy's face before he was snatched away to safety by an older man from the tribe. As he held him firmly by the shoulders, the boy's eyes were somewhat absent, looking past the man instead of returning his gaze, until Yao took a deep inhalation of breath, suddenly seeming to focus on the man in front of him, having spontaneously snapped out of the trance he'd been under.

At once, the man's gaze hardened. "Yao!" he said sternly, the words coming in some sort of grunt. "What were you thinking?!" Yao turned instinctively at the wail like scream to see his mother approaching, eyes wide and tears streaming in a constant, quick rhythm down her cheeks. "Look at you!" she said, and Yao noticed the man step away as his mother reached out for him, her hands touching and stroking his face. "My beautiful boy!" As her fingers connected with one particular part of the side of his face, Yao's face involuntary contorted into a hard wince as the strange pain coursed through his blood. Immediately, his mother stepped back. "Are you hurt?" she asked, her expression turning into one of worry. In spite of the stinging sensation he felt, Yao bowed his head and shook it. "I could not say," he said.
"Look at your face!" she said, a pleading quality to her eyes as she examined the spot which served as the source of the stinging. "That will leave a scar!"

And that it did. It took a long while for the small, angry burn Yao had sustained to mellow from it's initial raging red, to a pale pink colour before paling to the lingering white it would remain as a reminder of Yao's unfortunate ill-fated venture, that touch to close to the fire.

At first, Yao stayed away from the fire, the trauma causing him fear of a reoccurrence. But as he grew older, Yao's more dominant driven nature prevailed and the allure of the dancing flames became too great, causing him to return.

The serious scowl not an unusual expression on his face these days broke a brief  moment as he felt the familiar warm winds of the fire's essence swirl around him. Yao was unaware of quite how powerful the gust of wind had been as he stood at the edge of the clearing reserved specially for these nightly gatherings round the fire until everyone surrounding the fire on logs turned to look at him. Occasionally glancing around him at the people all staring back at him, Yao strolled up the dirt strewn path to resume his place in the closest row of logs to the fire. Just as quickly as it had come, the attention on Yao dissipated and everything seemed to return to normal.

No one gave Yao's return a second thought. Until, nights later when the tribe decided to have a dance round the fire. Yao was quick to get involved, enthusiastically dancing about and waving his arms in the air. It only took one observant person to notice. Everyone stopped and turned to face the woman who had called out. "Everyone," she said, "try and watch both Yao and the fire." Confused, a lot of the tribe shrugged, glancing periodically from the fire to Yao, occasionally back at the woman as well. "Yao," she said and his gaze returned to rest on hers. "Lift your arms," and he did.
"Look!" Someone called, pointing toward the fire. "Yao, keep moving your arms, up and down." As he did so, the fire rose and fell in perfect synchrony with the movement of his arms.
"Yao controls the fire!" At this, Yao could mot help but smile, and suddenly the little light in his eyes illuminated brighter, resembling the vibrant fire behind him.

Legend has it that it is indeed Yao who controls the fire, and with his endless energy, it dances along with him, a constant, willing partner in a passionate tango of sorts. You'll notice the fire really come alive when the wild, dancing flames are reflected in Yao's eyes and the mischievous nature always at his heart is really allowed to shine as he thrives in his element.

Living Reflection

I look absently out the window as the bus trundles along down the road, completely tuned out from the world. Music coming through the headphones over my ears, I can't help but bop my head along to the beat of the song. What? It's catchy...

I am brought back to reality so abruptly that I literally jump a little in my seat. Up till now, the scenery outside has all been the same. Blue sky with white, fluffy clouds dotting it's endless expanse here and there, tall, leafy trees every now and again, paths beside the road on which we travel and bright green grass. Lots of bright green grass.

I feel my eyes go wide as I spot the figure. At first, my eyes simply graze over them, like they've been doing with everything else, and then, I look back. That figure looked familiar... I swear I've seen them somewhere before....

I let out a sigh of relief as the bus stops to let someone on and press my face as close as it will go to the window, squinting hard in order to try and get a clearer view of this person. Whoever they are. All I can make out from this distance is that they are of an average height, and they have dark brown hair, a similar shade to my own, if not the same shade.

I shake my head, realising it was them the bus was stopping for. My eyes are glued to them as they move to step on and I wait with baited breath for them to come closer and give me a better look at them. I shudder at how creepy my own thoughts sound and avert my eyes back to the window.

But, as the sound of footsteps come closer as the new passengers make their way down the aisle to find seats, I can't help but look back. I breathe a sigh of relief as I spot the seemingly familiar person, who has not yet passed me. Again, my eyes are glued, but I try as hard as I can to be unobtrusive, casually switching my gaze from them to the view beyond the bus window, making sure to spend more time looking out the window then at them.

I look over again just in time to see they've slept into the empty seat right across the aisle from me. I look them up and down before averting my gaze once more, closing my eyes to focus on the image in my mind.  There's a reason this person looks familiar, I realise as I open my eyes and look at them again. I shudder as their gaze meets mine and it suddenly all makes sense. I am looking back at me.

It's like looking into a mirror, except I'm not. I'm right there. In front of me. It can't be right, I think and blink, but I'm still there, looking exactly as I do right at that moment. My mouth falls open as I stare back at myself.
"Come," says the other me as the bus stops again. Intrigued, I would have gotten up and followed them, but I don't have much of a say in the matter as I grab my wrist and drag me up the aisle after me.

I am more or less led blind and am instructed to sit down again before I am allowed to open my eyes. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the intense darkness surrounding me, but once they do, I look around, taking in my surrounding before my eyes come to rest on the other me, standing a few feet away with arms crossed over their chest, looking back at me. They step forward into the only piece of light in the room, coming, I suppose, from a random hole in the roof overhead. I feel myself stiffen as I see what the other me holds in his hands. A gun. Pointed squarely at me. On sheer instinct, I swiftly raise my hands in surrender. "Please!" I say, my voice sounding foreign as it hits my ears. "Don't shoot!"

I let out an involuntary sigh as the other me lowers his gun slightly and begins to circle me, in stunned motionless silence in my chair. "What do you want from me?" I hear myself ask in a whisper. "with me?"
The other me pauses directly in front of me, looks up slightly in order to meet my eyes, or, more accurately, look at my eyes from under his hood, and grunts. "I am working on orders." He says in a gruff voice.
"Orders?" I somehow manage to echo his words. "Orders from whom?"
"I cannot say," he says, averting his gaze away from me. "Though you may relax. The gun was merely a tool to ensure your compliance." As he speaks, the other me slowly loosens his grip on the gun, and I wince as it falls to the ground with a clatter. "You cannot die, for one day, you are to become me."

I simply stare back at the other me, now standing a few feet away, holding my gaze from the safety of the shadows, and blink.
"This brings me to the reason behind our acquaintance," he says and I struggle to resist laughing at his choice of words. "Though it was inevitable." I remain silent, waiting for him to continue, confident there is more. "Now is when your training begins." In a few, swift movements, he is behind me, coaxing me to stand up, and frightened by the possibility of the gun's return, I do.
"Training for what?" I ask as I straighten up.
"That," says the other me, "is for me to know, and you to find out."