The bright orange tongues bite relentlessly at the firewood. Little by little they gulp and darken the log’s colours, slowly filling themselves up, gradually becoming bigger. I watch as the firewood crumbles, succumbing over to the fires insatiable hunger to burn. I have always marvelled at the captivating beauty of fire, it’s one of the two things that gives me pleasure in life. Watching the slow breathing of the flames, moving up and down, burning bright and warming everything in its vicinity. Even warming the depths of my cold, icy heart.
“Brennen dear, I’m back!”
I immediately look away from the fireplace and whirl around. Standing by the open door of the cottage stands my wife, Petra Flamme. She has her bright brown hair tied in a tail, revealing her icy blue eyes that pierce through everything. Her freckles dot her round little cheeks and move lightly as she smiles at me. Petra is the second most striking lady I have ever met. I slowly stand up and head to her side.
“You’re back early, I was thinking I was going to have to gaze at the fireplace for another week.” I say as I close the door behind her and kiss her lightly on the lips. Petra smiles and takes my hand. I then escort her towards the two wooden chairs in front of the fireplace. The fireplace crackles in greeting as we sit down, nervous because Petra is finally home. Once she sits down, she immediately flails her feet around and looks at the fire. Occasionally, she would tilt her head toward me, waiting, her fingers tapping lightly the side of the chair.
Fuck. She came home too soon. I did not want to speak. At least, not yet. I needed time to think. A long silence then followed, interrupted by the soft melody created by Petra’s tapping and the energetic flames of the fire, tossing sparks around, expectant. I take a deep breath and clear my throat. Instinctively Petra’s eyes lock mine. I will myself speak in my gentlest tone.
“Petra dear, I was wondering, why did you return so soon? Are you not supposed to be in France right now?”
Petra’s eyes fall to the ground and stop moving altogether. She quietly says:
“I would’ve hoped you’d be much happier to see me.”
“Petra, I truly am happy to see you, it’s just… I was surprised.” I respond. I look at my lap and start fidgeting with my fingers. This is too awkward. Why is she making me go through all this? Well, it is Petra after all. Of course she would be like this. Another silence followed. Luckily it was short lived because Petra speaks again.
“I write a letter to you everyday”
“I always write back,” I say. I’d better brace myself; this might be trouble. She stares again with uncertainty clear in her big icy eyes and talks loudly.
“I speak my soul into those letters, and whenever I get a letter from you, I expect the same, love, care I imbue in my words. But all I get is a sorry excuse for a heartfelt letter. No love, no affection! Only overused cliches you use over and over again!” Petra’s lip starts trembling and round tears start to pour from her eyes. She mutters:
“It’s as if you don’t care anymore.”
I sigh quietly and stand up from my chair. I look at Petra and then the fireplace. The flames catch my glance and spew some warm waves my way and I embrace them willingly. The familiar heat relaxes me greatly. I take a deep breath and walk in front of where Petra is sitting. She is quietly weeping into her hands, her hands covering her face. I lightly touch her shoulder, and she raises her head and looks at me. Tears ran down her face, streaking her tiny freckles and blurring them out of shape. I kneel so I am at eye level with her. I can feel her intense gaze peeking into my soul, clawing away begging me to reveal my true feelings. I calmly lock my true feelings away and let my icy heart do the talking. I reach for her cheek and stroke it gently, wiping the tears off.
“Petra forgive me, because I have truly been very cold to you in my letters. You are always travelling, and I feel lonely at home, the only comfort I have is these flames. Every time I receive your letters filled with joy and love I can’t help but feel a deep longing for you. It causes great grief in me, and I end up unintentionally spilling my sadness into your letters. I know you deserve to be written passionate and love letters, but my sadness at your absence does not allow me to. I cannot seem to get past this, and I frequently read your letters over and over again and torture myself even more.”
Greatly touched, Petra jumps into my arms and hugs me with all her might. A wave of relief floods through me as I cuddle in her warm strong embrace. She then speaks joyfully.
“Brennen Flamme, If I’d known how you felt I would have come home sooner!”
“Petra now that I am forgiven, I have but one request to make. I know you just came back, but I also know how important that trip to France is for you. As much as it pains me to say this, I think you should go to France and finish your business. I will suffer in your absence dearly, but I want you to promise me something. When you come back, I will greatly rejoice in your presence and hope that you stay for longer than usual”.
She looks bewildered at what I just said but slowly her bewilderment turns into understanding. Her icy blue eyes stare at me, unyielding.
“I promise I will stay for longer when I get back.”
We kiss briefly. She hastily places a letter in my hand and turns around and runs for the door.
“O dear I hope I can make it in time for my meeting tomorrow. Thankfully the carriage is still outside….”
I hear her babbling as she closes the door and rushes outside, but I don’t care what nonsense she says. I hear the sound of a whip and horse whines, and I know she is gone. A devilish grin crawls into my face. I look down at the envelope. I guess this was her next letter to me. I walk towards the fireplace and fling the letter in. The flames rejoice and burn brighter as they devour the letter. The unread contents, the secret feelings within the letter are buried by the fire. I watch transfixed, as the flames slowly turn the letter into ash. Flames are the best secret keepers, whenever you want anything to stay hidden, they take it in, and never let the secrets out. A few moments later, the only evidence of the letter ever existing was just ash. A soft knock on my door brings me back to my senses and my body feels hot. Just in time. I stand up smiling and head towards the door. I open it slowly and waiting at the other side is the prettiest woman I have ever met. Just the sight of her makes me feel ecstatic. Long silky black hair, charcoal eyes, big breasts, slender legs, and most importantly, the perfect smile waiting just for me.
“I’m back, love” she whispers in the voice like the soft wail of a violin. She then reaches out with her hand and intertwines it with mine and pulls me toward the bedroom. I quickly kick the door shut with my foot as she drags me away, off to another reality.
