Yesteryear Fiction

Your Lessons
By Kabul Kitchens


“Don’t touch the Fire.”

Mara curled up into herself, glanced back at Helen, found an echo of the warning clear in the old woman’s eyes as she stumped into the chamber, rag and pail of soapy water in hand.

“The crystal isn’t hot, just fragile.” The old woman grumbled. “I don’t know why they call it ‘the Fire,’ but you shouldn’t touch it, child.”

Mara blinked, let her eyes drift back to the crystal.

“Maybe they call it ‘the Fire’ because it is so pretty, like fire.”

“Maybe.” Chuffed Helen. “It’s not my place to think about such things, nor yours, for that matter. Have you been practicing your lessons?”

“Mmhmm,” Mara said proudly, her tone coming sing song, happy. Helen settled onto the floor beside her, folded her hands.

“Good.” She smiled benignly. “Show me.”

Mara smiled, lifted her hands into the air, and in an instant, the room was filled with light. Tiny patterns began to form in the light, and as Mara brought her hands together amongst the light and patterns, she shouted the words: “Be! Exist!”

There was only a breath, and then, in that moment, our world was born.


- - -
BIO: I used to be funny, but now I just drink beer.