I have never seen fire, or felt its warmth.
I live in the snow, with my father. My mother died in a house fire during a hot summer. I was safe with my grandparents. I was only a baby at the time. My dad was so sad and worried for my safety, he moved us to the snow, the only way there could be a fire was for some madman to come and purposely set fire to our house.
When I ever stayed over at a friends house, their parents were under strict rules to not use their fireplace, ever. And when it's cold? My dad doesn't need to worry, though our house is made of wood, it is well insulated and all heaters work excellent, except the one in my room. That one didn't even work.
One night, I was in my room, trying to sleep, with my not working heater, Dad was at a meeting, for work, he's always at those. I smelt something unfamiliar, but It smelt nice. It felt really warm, it was a nice sensation, the warmth, seeing as I've spent my whole life in freezing cold conditions. I rose out of bed and walked down the stairs, eager to figure out where the warmth was coming from. I saw bright flames flicker and swallow my home, I wasn't scared, but I knew to leave, but a part of me didn't, It wanted to laugh and dance in the flames. As I rushed to the door, something tingled at my foot, I looked down, a flame licked at my skin, It didn't hurt, my nerves weren't used to this kind of warmth and feeling. I stood still, loving the feeling.
As the flames swallowed my body, killing me, I had one final thought;
'Fire can be Beautiful'
