Spirit Fire: Part 1

Hello everyone! I am sorry my post is so late this time. I had to do some editing on this before I could share it, but I am excited to do so now!

I also created the cover for this story; I have been using a website called Canva, which has been a wonderful tool.

This story is about a side character from my current WIP (Work in progress) called Storm. It is set in the same pre-dystopian world and has a similar message!

Here is the first part, I hope you enjoy!

Spirit Fire

The boy stood in front of the burnt building, surrounded by swaths of caution tape. Thin flakes of ash floated through the air.

The smoke had cleared from last night, and light morning rain had dampened the rubble down to mud and sludge.

Taking a deep breath, he ducked under the tape and walked up to where the door used to be.

Bits of broken glass ground into the concrete under his feet. The cracked pavement of the front walk had been swept clear, but it was blackened with ash and fire.

He placed his hand on a twisted, smoldering tree that had fallen into the middle of the rubble… his name was still there, a name scrawled into the blackened wood.

Silas, age twelve.

That was before everything.

Silas clenched his jaw and lifted his sooty fingers from the charred bark.

They crossed the line.

This was my home.

My home.

His brows lowered as his eyes swept over the wreckage. Slowly, a spark was flickering within him.

Simmering under the surface.

Silas turned and walked away from the burnt house. His fists clenched, the memories razed and scattered to the autumn wind.

His hazel eyes blinked back tears.

It was finally time to do something.

No matter how hopeless.

* * *

Silas dropped down from the fence into the vacant construction plot. Threading his way past piles of abandoned wood and materials, he paused at the door of a shack.

How long have I lived here?

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Since you found out how worthless you are.

He pulled open the door, leaving it open so that the light filtered into the small room.

He went to the side of the room where there was a roughly nailed-together bed. Dropping to his knees, he groped under it, pulling out a small cardboard box.

Blowing off the dust, he set it on his bed and lifted the lid.

A driver’s license with a picture of a lanky teen smiling awkwardly sat on top. His golden brown hair stuck out to the side, his hazel eyes squinting.

Silas pocketed it.

Next came a birth certificate, a wallet, and a knife.

He pushed the box under the bed and gripped the handle of the knife. It was just the right fit for his hands. The blade was shiny from constant polish, and the point gleamed wickedly in the sunlight.

Silas stuck it in the wall next to his bed.

A shadow fell over the bed, stretching over the bedframe. He looked up, and his eyes hardened. “What are you doing here, Barr?”

A young man glowered at him from under his tattered baseball cap. “You had better not do what I think you are doing.” He leaned against the doorframe, running his fingers over the strings on his light blue hoodie.

Silas reached for the knife in the wall and yanked it out. “Well, I am.” His eyes narrowed, “And you are not going to stop me.”

Barr’s lips pressed into a thin line, the sunlight catching on a scar that ran down the side of his temple to his neck. “They will capture you, torture you, and kill you. Is that what you want?”

The boy’s lips quirked slightly, “Sure.”

Barr watched him silently for a moment as he sorted through a small notebook. “Why didn’t you do this…before?”

Silas placed the notebook on the bed and looked up at him. “I was scared. I was weak. I didn’t know any better. Neither did you.”

“What can I do against them? Or you do, for that matter, you are what, sixteen? Even the secret police haven’t been able to bust them!”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Barr took off his baseball cap and rumpled his black hair before jamming it back down onto his head. “I am sorry they burned your parent’s place down.”

“They will regret it,” Silas said. “It has finally gone too far. One thing after another… tumbling down…” His eyes suddenly flicked back to Barr’s grey ones. “You don’t intend to help me?”

Barr’s jaw tightened, the scar stretching across his face becoming more apparent. “The night they took you…”

“You getting sentimental on me?”

Barr smirked dryly, “Fine, the night they dragged your wailing hide over the front step, I knew this wasn’t my gig. But you know how it works. Once you’re in, you’re in, and nothing in the world can change that. Gang or death.”

‘‘So?”

“So, I am breaking away, just a second, just to get a breath of that fresh night air.”

Silas’s heart lifted an inch off his chest, but anger boiled deep in his veins.

“You promised.”

“I did what I could! They sent me away on a crap night scare! I didn’t know till I got back!”

Silas shoved the notebook into the side pocket of his cargo pants and stood, crossing his arms. “What happens if they get me?”

“I go back to doing what I do and blame it all on you.”

“What happens if they do what they did to my parents?”

Barr’s eyes flickered. “Burn ‘em to the ground.”

Silas nodded, then took a step forward. The top of his head just barely reached Barr’s broad shoulders. He looked up, his eyes burning.

“But whatever happens, don’t let them get my sisters. Ever.”

Barr closed his eyes for a moment.

“Silas, I promise.”

Silas shuddered, “Let’s go.”

* * *

The dead autumn leaves rustled down the sidewalks in the bitter wind, rattling and scraping against each other like a soothsayer’s charms.

Silas’s worn blue sneakers made no sound on the cement, the wild tips of his chestnut hair caught in the wind.

He caught a glimpse of his figure in a storefront window. A gangly teen slumped into his hoodie, his eyes downcast, his worn clothes dirty.

Many people were out that day, chattering to each other as they shopped.

Silas watched as a girl, holding onto her mother’s hand, trotted into a restaurant. Another man sat outside a coffee shop, chatting on the phone, a big grin on his face.

They were normal, ordinary people.

Silas’s heart ached.

Each passerby turned away from them, looking in another direction, their footsteps retreating hollowly like a bell rung in the middle of the night.

Silas gritted his teeth, shrugging his thin sweatshirt tighter around him. The chill in the air was growing steadily, gnawing at the earth.

He paused when they reached the police station. Staring up at the imposing building of white stone, the dark windows polished and gleaming.

Barr came up, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his light blue sweatshirt.

“You ready?”

Silas let the question hang in the air as he climbed up the steps and reached for the door handle.

Was he ready?

Time to find out.

Continued on Part 2.

Excited for more? Drop your thoughts in the comments below!