Emil strikes a match, holding it upright as the fire consumes the wood.
He loves to watch them burn! Hopefully Helga won't notice the missing box back in the kitchen. Emil is just eleven years old, but that's enough to know adults don't want kids to play with fire, and that would mean disciplinary action if she finds out, a few days without cake, at least.
"Ouch!" The fire reached his finger! That's the punishment for getting distracted! He sucks gently at the finger's tip while looking around. There's no one in the garden, and he is well hidden from the house, and from Helga, by those bushes.
He strikes another match.
"Good morning Emil!"
"Hi Loge! Didn't see you coming!"
"You should hide better. It's easy to spot you here."
"No, it's not! I just checked! Nobody can see me here. And how did you get here?"
"Easily"
That's one odd thing about Loge. He never explains much about himself. Emil doesn't know where the boy lives, just assuming he's from the neighbourhood. They just happen to meet here and there. But every time that makes Emil happy. He's nice, fun and, of course, beautiful, with that long and sparkling red hair down to his strong shoulders. More important, he, despite being older, seems to enjoy Emil's company, unlike the boys at school that are always making fun at him for being fat and wearing fancy clothes.
"Watch out!" Loge says, bending to take the match, almost completely burnt, from Emil's fingers. "You were going to have another burn! How would you explain it to Helga?" He says, extinguishing the fire with a swift blow.
"Hum... I would simply hide my hands inside the pockets."
"And you would eat with your hands inside the pockets?"
"Right! I'll be more careful! I know it's dangerous but... it's so pretty."
"Yes, the fire. I understand you. It's fascinating, isn't it? The way it shines and dances... oh, and the heat! How wonderful it is to feel the heat!"
Emil imagines a large bonfire, the creaking sound of the burning wood, the heat, the smell, those sparks ascending in the night sky... and Loge is there, by his side, holding his hand. His hand is warm... no! Not warm, hot! His hand is very hot! And that heat is spreading across Emil's body. And on Emil's imagination he is older, tall and beautiful as Loge is, and his blond hair sparkles like his friend's.
The heat spreads to his other hand, and in the dream Emil looks and sees his hand on fire, but it doesn't burn. It feels like wearing a warm glove. When he closes his hand the fire disappears, just to come back when he stretches his fingers.
They sit side by side, facing the bonfire, and Loge's hand is over Emil's shoulder while he plays with his fiery hand. He touches the grass with one flaming fingertip, and it burns...
"Hey, Emil! Wake up!"
Emil opens his eyes. He's sitting on the grass under the afternoon sun. Loge is sitting on his right, and just in front of him a small patch of grass is burning. He steps several times over it with his boots, while Loge looks and smiles.
"You must be careful with your fire, my friend."
"And you could help me, instead of sitting there smiling!" Emil says, stepping again over the burnt grass. Thankfully the fire is gone.
"Well, you took care of it. Now I have a... place where I must go, and it may take a while to get back."
"A long time?" Emil asks, already missing his friend.
"Probably. I don't know for sure." He holds Emil's hand, and gosh his skin is hot! "But my fire is with you, and your fire is in my heart. Time doesn't matter."
"So we will always be friends?"
"Always. Now it's getting dark. Go, before Helga comes searching and finds those matches and the grass."
Emil watches as his friend walks away. A cold wind blows, but he feels hot. Walking towards the house, he flexes his fingers, remembering that awesome sensation of controlling the flames. "Oh, if it was true!"
He reaches the house and turns around, facing the garden. He imagines how amazing it would be to make things burn, to have fire on his fingers! No one would mock him!
He looks at the distant trees with a broad smile, and pictures them of fire. It's a silly though, he knows, turning back and heading for the kitchen.
"Yeah! It would be great!"
