Flash Fiction Rewrite

Preface: I came across this flash fiction I wrote in high school. Let me just spare you guys by saying it was horrid. But I thought, what better way to see how much I have improved than to rewrite it? So this is what I bring to you. A little warning, I have no idea what I was thinking with this plot. It's practically nonexistent (and still very much horrid).

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The clouds hang dark and flashing against a backdrop of orange above me from my place in the gravel driveway. Thunder still rumbles in the distance, the sound of the passing storm similar to that of a starving dog. The air is humid, making my skin slick with sweat, and it carries the strong smell of ash that leaves my eyes burning and dries my swollen, tear-streaked cheeks. 

I can’t keep my gaze off our home. The house that once stood tall amongst the surrounding trees and long backroad, has now been destroyed into nothing except rubble and splinters of wood. I have never felt so guilty. To see this destruction, knowing I’m the cause with no solution at hand–knowing well I have messed up, yet again–brings a different kind of shame entirely.

I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I thought I had this beast under control. There hasn't been any incidents for months. I hadn’t experienced heat flashes, no overpowering sense of losing myself. I had been good. I had kept myself in check. 

Yet, when I turn and find Noah’s hard expression, all of this turns completely, and utterly real. It’s not a dream, it’s not a memory, because I don’t think it would ever truly be possible for me to summon up that look he’s giving me now.

His dark eyes say he’s lost hope. His twisted mouth reads disappointment. He’s disappointed in me. I said I was better. I promised I wouldn’t lose control. He put his faith and trust in me and I smothered it. 

It’s a stab in the chest to me, and to him. 

The fire had started with a stupid fight. Noah and I had stumbled into a terrible, loud, hateful argument that left him spitting and me clawing at his shoulders. That’s when I felt it. I felt the first caress of heat in my chest. I ignored it. I thought it was my anger. I wrote it off as a coincidence. It didn’t take long for that small flicker of warmth to grow with my fury. Soon, my entire body was burning. There were flames, true flames licking under the skin of my arms. My legs. In my heart. 

I think I was screaming, begging for it to stop. For someone to help.

I close my eyes against the remnant sound of Noah crying out for me to get a hold of myself. He said it hurt. The heat was too much. But by the time I had fumbled for my restraint, that cooling drop of water deep within myself, it was too late. The floors were alight and the house was starting to crumble. I had collapsed on the ground, and Noah had hissed in my ear when he picked me up and ran us to the protection of our front yard. It took hours of watching the flames, rain pouring down on top of us, before it all finally sizzled out. 

Nothing remains now.

Noah looks away from me and I realize that no amount of begging and apologizing will ever fix this. Nothing can fix what I have done. 

I reach trembling fingers out for him, but he just shakes his head, lips pressed together, and his expression dropping. 

The sun shines out from behind a cloud, and it sends light cascading down on his blond hair. Shadows are created along his face, making him look haunting. 

My chin quakes when he takes a step back, gravel crunching under his feet. “Please,” I say. It’s a choked whisper that comes out strained, like a harp's wire about to snap.

Noah shakes his head again. “I can’t.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

His attention goes up to the sky, and I want to grab his chin and pull his eyes back to mine. I want to clutch onto his strong shoulders and yell that I am more important than the sunset. This here, what is happening now, needs to be fixed so we can return to how we were just this morning. I want to be forgiven so I can continue to wake up next to him. I don’t want to lose the moments of sitting on the back porch while sipping coffee in the evenings. I would even go back to the days we spent in fear, running from those who wished us harm if it meant this strange tension between us now would disappear. 

I want normal. I want his smile and his laugh and sweet, sweet kisses. 

I don’t want the hate he’s throwing at me now. 

But he takes another step away from me. He starts to turn and I leap forward, grabbing the sleeve of his sweater, the length of it black and crisp from carrying me. 

“Please.” I feel for more words, but I’m left with only desperate begs. “Please, don’t go.”

Noah doesn’t look at me. “I have to.”

He pulls away from me and I drop to my knees. “I’ll be better,” I cry. “I’ll be good.”

He remains silent still. But I see the tears. I see his damp cheeks and pain written across his features as he gets into his truck. Our truck. 

There’s a beat of silence before the engine rolls to life. 

There it is again. When the panic strikes, the heat comes crashing in with it. 

I’m soon gasping for breath, fingers twisting in the gravel. I try to fight it off, this surge of anxious energy, but the beast has too many arms and teeth. 

I bite the inside of my cheek. 

So, this is how it’s going to end? It was always known that I would be the destroyer of everything. I will be the one to bring down cities and end lives. I just thought–or rather, I hoped–

I would have a little more time before then.

Noah finally looks at me through the windshield of the truck. He watches me struggling for a moment, sadness etched in every hard line of his face. 

He used to tell me he’d never leave. Promised he wouldn’t. He used to whisper to me in the darkness of our room, as he left kisses along the length of my neck, that the horrid power I had would never separate us. 

But I see his lie now. I see the false love he laid out for me to wrap myself in. I see how much of a fool I really was. 

Noah nods to me before backing out of the drive and leaving me broken on the ground. 

I choke as I continue to keep another wave of flames at bay. Emotions unravel themselves. Dozens of conflicted feelings fighting to take over.

I let a giggle climb past my lips. I watch the rising dust left behind from his tires float and fall. 

I watch with a sloppy smile and laugh

And laugh

And laugh until my voice is ugly and gruff.

Until I’m croaking and wild and insane. 

Until there is no more strength in my voice.

Until there is no more strength in me.