Fire is my favorite thing in the world. It is warm, bright, and soothing. It wraps itself in everything it touches, like a blanket of orange light. So powerful, yet so gentle. So fast, yet slow. Every curve of it’s flame a beautiful yellow arc, almost sexual in the way it curves in the air like a sleek leg of embers.

They call me a pyromaniac. I am not a pyromaniac.

I am an artist. Lighting torches in the world. Making it brighter and more beautiful.

And one day the world will thank me, because it will be consumed in fire, and I will have predicted it. I will have told them of the great orange flower about to burst open on the world. Will have warned them of the danger of it’s beauty. It will be so beautiful.

And they will thank me.