The Girl With The Blue Flame Brain
The Girl With The Blue Flame Brain was always quiet, but loud at the same time. When she spoke there was a silence and when she was silent there was a constant humming of ideas. She would often just sit there burning, being brilliantly blue and bright.
Sometimes people would come and sit by her and stare at her blue-flamed eyes that would expose her blue-flamed brain. They would love her and loathe her at the same time because the blue was brilliant and beautiful and captivating but it was also cold, and dangerous and lonely and honest. They would usually leave and The Girl With The Blue Flame Brain would wish they had never bothered her in the first place. Being this alight with life was enough for her and she didn’t need people to watch her burn to know that she was burning.
One boy had come and sat by her one time and had put his hand on her face without asking. He screamed and screamed from the burning. He is probably still in hospital.
The Girl With The Blue Flame Brain would entertain herself with books and videos and trees, mostly. Trees were her favourite things because they never lied. People lied; their flames would flicker falseness. Sometimes even the sky would lie, but the trees wouldn’t dare, they wouldn’t even know how. She would often sit next to them and they would tell her everything they knew; stories about great leaders and lost lovers and awkward alliances. They had thousands of these stories inside of them and if you sat and listened long enough, they would whisper them to you.
Sometimes they would cry when autumn came and their leaves would fall. Even though they knew that new leaves would come, they cried.
But most of the time they would just sit there and her blue-flamed brain would turn itself down and listen to the truth of the trees.
One day, when she was sitting under a tree, turned down, she heard a crunching of old leaves. She stood up and walked behind the old oak. A boy was sitting there. He turned abruptly, hearing her approach. His eyes were angry, his lips had the crinkles of angry words and kissless nights and his eyes introduced himself as The Boy With The Holocaust Heart.
The Boy With The Holocaust Heart had been brought up breaking things. It was all he knew how to do. When he would get angry or excited, things would explode. He would blow up and sometime people would be singed. So he learned that his feelings were faults and his presence was painful.
To calm himself on difficult dangerous days, he would wander around the forests to find birds and listen and lower his heat. Unlike people, the birds knew exactly what to say to make him behave. The birds were never angry, or disappointed or bitter, the birds would only fly and sing and nest and he would stare up at them, in awe and envy of their elegance and agility.
He found the town he had grown up in small and tight. And it was hard to breath with other people’s frowns around. He had been lonely with so many souls screaming out their name on the internet. He had shelled his fire behind a pain-made metallic armour and he had decided to make his way, for forever, for better or for worse, to live and lie beneath the beauty of the brilliant birds.
Usually, in situations likes this one, The Girl With The Blue Flame Brain would just wander to another part of the forest where no one could bother her, but there was something about The Boy With The Holocaust Heart that would have her stay and stare.
The terrified, bad tempered boy turned to leave, but something stopped him. He heard the humming of the girl; true and constant and honest and purple. The humming morphed and melted his metallic skin, something he had so often taken pride in. The humming hit his holocaust heart and he couldn’t move. He looked the girl in her blue-flamed eyes. Everything was inside of them. All of the questions he had been asking were answered and a million more questions flooded in. Blood moved. The eyes were warm and welcoming to his heavy heat. Hot and cold, wrong and right, right and left, young and old, bruised and brilliant — all inside the irises inside of this one girl. And all of a sudden he didn’t feel lonely anymore and he wandered what her names was and what she thought about the birds.
The girl looked at the boy, his heart heating up the chill in the air, tingling her toes, her fingers, her neck, her cheeks, her soul, her bones. She had forgotten herself, spending too much time in her blue-flamed mind. When she looked at The Boy With The Holocaust Heart she remembered. She had become oblivious to the obvious outstanding everything, and for this, she was ashamed and excited at the same time. He lit up the dark corners of her chest every time he blinked.
They stood staring at each other for quite some time until the trees told them to sit. So they sat, staring. Moments that could have been years or months or weeks or seconds passed and the blue flame brained girl remembered she had a mouth…so she smiled. She had been quite serious for quite some time, so it stung slightly to smile. But after a split second of stinging, how good it felt to forget to be serious, and smart and focused and fiery. And the Holocaust Hearted Boy remembered that he was brave…so he kissed her. How good if felt to forget to be scared of your feelings, he thought. How fantastic to fire up again.
When the holocaust heart of the boy met the blue flame of the girl’s brain their love combusted into an unfathomable forest fire. Her brilliant blue expanded all around the old earth and his heat belted through the canopies.
The old trees burned brightly, lighting the snow surrounding them. The leaves screamed and the bark smouldered and coughed and fell into the flames thankfully, old and tired. The wind wailed and danced the flames like magic across the dead wood. Everything lived properly for another moment and died again.
By morning, the snow and charcoal covered the land and nothing but a few birds moved. There was a sadness in the smoke and The Girl With The Blue Flame Brain and The Holocaust-Hearted Boy were gone forever. Some people say you can see them if you are sitting around a campfire and you look closely enough. The girl at the centre singing silently and The Boy With The Holocaust Heart burning everything he can to please her.