so todays story is one I wrote myself as all of them will be.

i really kept a blank

canvas in mind when writing this story as the plot is one so unconventional. enjoy

I was engulfed in the cloud of smoke that spiraled above my head as I allowed myself

to release the fire. The process left a scorching feeling inside my lungs that inflamed

me to notice as if it were acid burning within me. My emotions were the epitome of a

flame, and when all mixed together, truly did start the fire. My fire. Therefore, I lived

secluded, which prohibited me from feeling normal, which would otherwise cause

others to endure the suffering of my love. And I guess one day when we truly realize

this could be our last, a switch cunningly flips inside of us, exposing our hearts

desires, and igniting us to knowingly wound those who gave meaning to life. And this

my dear, is where the decision between survival and love destroyed lives. I once came

across a butterfly. It was a typical monarch, but of a beaming orange colour, and spots

of white and black bursting through, and taking shelter in your eyes. However, as I

recall, something very sickening had happened to this soaring beauty. Its soft wings

were now divided into two, the separation being a rip down the middle. The life being

taken away from such a harmless creature had caused me so much rage, that this was

truly the first time I had gone to exhale in displeasure, and had witnessed smoke

spewing from my mouth. In uttermost confusion, this was the first time I had realized

I would be living with a fire in my body, triggered by my strongest emotions. This put
my life in a strenuous position- no, I would say my life became more so impossible.

My life was a series of monotonous doors closing to prevent sentiment from

disturbing my achieved calmness. So, one evening as I was strolling along an

illuminated street, I was two blocks away from this quaint bookstore, when a dress

caught my attention. It wasn't the type of dress you think... Actually, it was just a

shade of brown lighter than her eyes. It may have been my imagination but from a

foot away, I believed their spark reached me so that I could look into them and envy

the one who held her soul. Regularly I could have forced myself to walk away; that

day was not a regular day at all. Before I had stopped to observe what my brain had

already put in motion, I looked up and I found myself in front of this woman's black

hair, and awkwardly enough took in the fresh, apple scent of the bangs that kissed her

forehead. She looked at me with a confused smirk that had filled her face and gently

whispered, "You just gonna stand there and study me or is there something you needa

ask me?" In a concerned tone I asked, "Oh my goodness! Are you okay?" She stared

at me in confusion and curiously responded, "Yeahhh, why?" I quickly answered,

"Well it must have seriously hurt when you fell from heaven." I expected her to reply

with something crabby, but instead she looked at me so innocently and replied,

"Actually I just took a really long trip getting back from hell." At one point I believed

that was a joke, "Well then, that must be why you're so damn hot!" She looked at me

and uncontrollably laughed for what felt like forever, trying hard to catch her breath.
"So where are you headed off to?" At this point I wanted to get down on my knees and

beg her to follow me, but instead I casually responded, "I'm headed down to the

bookstore on the next block. And you?" Her shocking response sparked the beginning

of our solemn love story, "I'll be following you on this journey." That night I had

purchased the book For One More Day and surprisingly she invited me back to her

condo. Now number one rule folks: Never enter the house of a stranger. However, I

really had nothing to lose because of my conditions, and later I would find out she

unfortunately, didn't either. We had reached her condo and it was a very cozy place.

She flicked on her fire place and cooed from behind me, "So you are a complete

stranger in my house, and you haven't even told me your name." I looked at her and

laughed while putting out my hand, "Good point. Scott. My name is, Scott." She

nodded her head as in a gesture of approval and responded with her name, "I'm Jone."

I told her that it was an interesting name. Not because it was complex or unique but

quite more so because of its simplicity. I looked at her and commented, "Enough of

this story. I'm ready to listen to yours." She started telling me about the

man who had once ruined her. "My dad was horrible but he gave me this courage- no.

I almost thanked him for teaching me about survival, until I remembered the ocean

didn't grant me the gift of swimming. I earned it myself." She wore her troubled past

like wings and I understood they were what literally flew her out of hell. What I

feared she would ask me, she did. "So what about you, Scott?" I had politely ignored
the question telling her it was late, and made plans to see her the next day at a local

coffee shop. Weeks had gone by, and if you're wondering... Than yes. Yes, we had

started a relationship. I even related to her in a way of upbringing. My mother had left

me in the same manner of her father. One day, I just never saw her again and

consequently, my fire had begun. Jone had anchored me for almost five months now

and I needed to return the favour. That night I had her promise ring ready and was set

to give it to her. I knocked and when she opened the door her arms were a carefully

caressing cage surrounding me, only releasing when she knew I was trapped. So, I

was very prepared to give her this ring until I held her face and looked into her

dancing eyes. I felt the surge of heat burn against her skin as an electric glow of

orange ran through her body. I knew exactly what was happening, and I quickly

dropped to the ground, simultaneously to her dark, unforgettable ashes. To this very

day, I remember the river of futile tears I cried which still haunt me as I remember

there never could have been enough to put out that fire. Now you must know I am

relaying this story because five weeks ago I was walking past an abandoned complex

and I smelled it. I smelled the smoke and I heard the screams. This was not like

cigarette smoke, but the one I recognized all too well that came out from the depths of

your body. I darted over and there she was, standing over a pile of ashes releasing her

smoke over his memory. Tears rushed to my eyes and I immediately realized what this
meant: she had fallen in love again, just not with me.