SPARKY

Note from the Author: Hello all :) I don't normally write in the first person (because it's a miserable experience) but wanted to push myself as a writer/storyteller. So... here's a first-person story. I hope you enjoy reading this exercise, which was (once again) inspired by my wonderful wife's sketchbook. I hope you enjoy it!

I liked being out here. Away from all the fussy rules and scared people. Away from the smell of oil and char.

I watched the pebble skip bounce down the street. I could feel the blood pulsing in the arches of my feet. Do I need new shoes? At one point, they were white. Not anymore. Scuffs, dirt, and sunlight had faded them to a yellowish off-white – which made them cooler if you asked me. But, my classmates didn’t seem to think so. I sighed, launching yet another pebble down the street.

Slowly, I lifted my head, the swirling crunch of amber-orange leaves in the wind pulling me back to the present. This sector of the city was beautiful. It was outside the wall, which meant humans hadn’t wrapped it in their stranglehold in quite some time. Without the humans there to stomp the life out of it, nature had slowly reclaimed the space that had once belonged to it.

The wind stung my face.

I zipped my puffer jacket, tucking my hands into the pockets and shifting my shoulder to shield myself from the breeze. My watery eyes skipped across the crumbling structures, where roots forced their way through stone brick and moss cascaded dripping pipes like green velvet capes. My eyes followed a thick vine, as it danced between bricks and roots, wrapping in through a shattered window.

The wind was still brittle. Reluctantly, I tugged my hands from their hiding places, cupping them in front of my mouth and steaming them with my breath. The calloused surface of my palms tugged at my freckles as I attempted to rub some of the warmth into my cheeks.

That’s when it happened.

I felt it before I saw it. Or heard it. A thick rumble trickled into the base of my feet, its static dancing up my body.

THWAM. THUMP.

My eyebrows pressed together, worried lines gathering on my forehead. My mind

raced: A Thumper? This close to the walls?

THWAM. THUMP.

The buildings around me shook. Pipes rattled. Loose bricks plunked against the overgrown sidewalk.

THWAM! THUMP!

Flakes of plaster floated through the air as bricks clattered to the ground, a horned head emerged from a wall only 15 meters in front of me.

“Errrmm,” the Thumper moaned, turning its face towards me. It had three, nubby horns protruding from its forehead. I felt sick. One of its eyes was missing. It spat out a piece of brick. “Erm. Food. Yummy yummy,” the creature’s voice would’ve been childlike if it wasn’t so grotesque.

My chest tightened with pain, my heart slammed against my ribs. It was harder to breathe: my breath only becoming more and more shallow. My heart throbbed. My fists clenched and opened. And clenched. And opened.

The Thumper’s head retreated back into the wall. I didn’t actually see the wall explode, due to the fact that I was already dashing back down the street, but I knew it happened. When walls are hit so hard that the bricks shatter into a smoldering mess, it’s a distinct sound: it has both the weight of cement and the texture of ceramics.

I wasn’t cold anymore. In fact, I was sweating. My yellowed sneakers warbled over top of each other, one step after another. Somehow, despite being in a full sprint, my legs managed to shake. I blinked sweat out of my eyes. I’d walked this street a hundred times, but couldn’t remember which way to turn.

“No run! Head-start not fair!” I looked over my shoulder, watching the Thumper’s oversized fists glow as he lifted them above his head.

THWAM! He swung them down, glowing brighter and brighter, moving faster and faster toward the ground.

THUMP! They collided with the road. My eyes widened as my heart leapt to my throat. I

swallowed. Cracks snaked their way out from the creature’s fists, flakes of cement and stone jumping from the surface of the road.

Then, I tripped. I fell flat on my face: in the scramble, I forgot to watch where I was going. My hands pressed against the cracked street, the vibration of the slam emanating through my whole body.

THWAM! THUMP!

The road disappeared. My vision went black. For a moment I felt weightless, and in an instant, I felt pain tingle over my entire body.

“Oh. Uhhhg. Food comeback!”

I closed my eyes, pressing a shuttered breath out of my lungs. Light flashed through my closed eyelids.

“Oh my oh my oh my!” An echoey voice pressed against my ears, “This is bad on all accounts! All accounts!”

I forced my eyes open. I was in the subway system that connected the old city. I had landed atop an abandoned railcar. I tried to stand, but it was rather difficult: my legs were covered in rubble.

“You’re alive?” The source of the echoey voice - a black ball, surrounded by a plume of fire - skip-hopped around the top of the rail car, bouncing into view.

My mouth dropped open, “No. way,” I murmured, “you’re, ah, you’re a -”

“Yes yes yes. I’m a Sprite. A fire sprite in specific. You appear to be dying,” the Sprite’s echoey voice bounced down the mostly dormant tunnel. I looked down, my eyes squinting before going wide. I reached out, running my fingers through the warm, sticky liquid that pooled beneath me. My vision faltered. I didn’t want to die.

“Oh,” was all that came out of my mouth.

“There go sparky sprite!” the Thumper’s dumpy words filled the cavernous tunnel.

“It appears I am too,” the sprite said. I was only half listening. I could hear him but... The sprite said something else. I was so tired. I needed a nap…

“Ahh!” I cried out, my eyes snapping open. Smoke danced up from my palm.

“Open your mouth, human,” the spite commanded.

“Whyy…” I muttered.

“I need a host. You need to live. It’s a good trade,” the sprite's voice bounced around in my head. Good trade. I opened my mouth. My eyes began to slide shut. Light flashed. My mouth burned. My entire body seared with pain. I writhed, twitching about, shaking beneath the rubble.

Searing, burning – then nothing.

When I opened my eyes, the Thumper’s one good eye hovered over me, “Why you eat Sprite? I needed. Spit out.” His breath smelled terrible.

“Give it to me,” a voice that wasn’t mine echoed in my head.

“What?” I said aloud.

“Spit out!” commanded the Thumper frantically.

“Give me the body, please, or we both die, probably.”

“Yeah. Sure.” I closed my eyes, waiting to die. WOOSH! Suddenly, I was warm. Very warm. Like someone wrapped my bones in a thick wool blanket. Something else opened my eyes.

“Not awful shape,” the voice bounced around in my head again. Suddenly, I was moving, fast, very fast. The rubble that pinned my feet to the car exploded in a smokey cascade of deep orange light. I looked down, realizing there was nothing beneath me. I tried to close my eyes.

“Stop that!” My head glanced down at my feet where jets of fire gathered just below my sneakers. I was lightheaded, but… all over my body. And warm. So, so, warm. My arm went up, positioning my open palm in the direction of the Thumper, who seemed very upset. I let my arm fall back at my side.

“WOULD YOU STOP IT!” My arm jolted back to the position it was in moments ago, and a column of flame exploded from my palm. The fire was beautiful: translucent waves of yellow and orange overlapping each other, dancing in a spiraled stream towards the Thumper. I couldn’t stop staring at the fire: it was so beautiful.

“You’re making it hard to aim.” My eyes flicked up to the Thumper, who was marching towards me now, each burly stomp denting the top of the metal railcar. The stream of flame followed my vision, tracing a smoldering black line across the beast’s chest. He didn’t flinch. It only stopped once as it made it to the Thumper’s last good eye.

“Who turn off lights!?” The Thumper cried out, “I no like dark!” The Thumper seemed completely unfazed by the fact that he was on fire. The smell of his burnt rubbery skin was awful. He stumbled forward, hands extended in front of him, and fell off the end of the railcar. My body floated back up to street level.

Poof. Suddenly I wasn’t so warm anymore. My hands shook as I ripped my jacket off patting my body up and down, tracing the rips along my pants and shirt. No cuts. No blood – except for what had dried on my clothes.

“Pretty cool, huh?” My head snapped around, looking for the source of the voice. I twirled in the middle of the street.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hey.”

I spun faster, head snapping between buildings, “Who’s there!!”

“Oh, give me a break.” My legs began to march on their own. Why couldn't I stop them? My chest grew tight again, my breath coming in short shallow swallows.

“What are you doing? Stop it! I don’t like this feeling. Get a grip kid!” I could feel the voice. I was inside the ruins of an old house now. I grabbed at my thighs, trying to squeeze the sense back into them.

“Knock. It. Off.” The echoey voice grunted. A staggered down the hall, blasting open one door after another, until I found myself in a poorly lit bathroom. Something scurried away. Mold stretched across the bathtub. Misty rays of light forced their way in from the dirty window. My hands jerked forward, gripping the edge of the sink, my head - despite my best efforts - rising to look in the mirror.

Woosh! Light flashed. I was warm again. My eyes widened. My breath came in and out faster. I was on fire! I began to smack my head, as I fell to the ground and began to roll.

“Are you done?” Slowly I stood, this time on purpose. Looking back in the mirror. I was still on fire; but, it didn’t hurt? Poof. The fire was gone. Woosh! The fire was back. Poof! Gone. Woosh! Back. Poof.

“Get it now?”

“Nope.”

The voice sighed, “You merged with me, kid.” Woosh.

END

Hello, dear reader :) Remember to find your adventure, wherever you happen to be. You may not be fighting giant creatures and swallowing sprites, but I solemnly swear, there is an adventure to be had in your own life. Don't miss it because you're too busy hiding behind the safety of your walls.