The Fire Dancer

  1. The Fire Dancer by Aoife Hughes

I dragged the match across the sandpaper coarse side of the box.
Splintered sparks scattered outwards with a flare of life.
An amber corona swaddled the match tip
and the scent of sulfur coated my nose.
I tipped the match gently against a ragged wick.
The fire caught, throwing a white flame upwards. It waltzed in the wind.

Peering closer I saw the dancer hiding within the flickering light.
She wore a dress of alabaster trimmed with golden lace.
She danced to the wick’s faint crackling drums and the flutes of wind.
She spun in the music, her shawl of light billowing around her.
Her crimson hair fanned outwards whirling in the tempest of the fire’s song.

The glowing pearl cloth deepened to crimson, edged with ruby.
The dancer donned a crown of copper light.
She flung her arms outwards sending a swell of warmth over me.
Fascinated I tipped my hand towards her flames.

She reached out with burning fingers and shook my outstretched hand.
Her ember fingers grasped my curious arm and I yelped.
On my palm burned her shining red greeting.

Hissing, I slammed a glass down around the candle.
I watched as smoke trooped into the dance.
He swirled and bowed to the flame dancer.
She bowed back and left the wick’s pedestal.
She left her dance behind her and slipped beneath the smoke’s grey cloak,
leaving only a fading ember in her place.

About the Author

Aoife Hughes

Aoife Hughes is a seventeen-year-old student who attends Presentation Secondary, Loughboy. She is an avid reader and prolific writer, although most of her stories lounge under the bed gathering dust. Aoife’s poetry has made two appearances in Rhyme Rag, and one of her stories has been broadcast on KCLR as a winning entry in the Wordplay short story competition. She dreams of pursuing a career as a writer in the future.