Like smoke in a fire, I exist only to blow away. I am not the cause for my own existence, I am but the biproduct of something more mezmerizing, more spectacular, more beautiful. One would say that I can be more deadly than the thing that created me, asphyxiating all in my path, obstructing their view, making their hearts race. The fire is but camouflage. The wondrous heat that seeps from its energy causes fear as well as astonishement. It dances in homes as people have now found ways to tame it, forever consuming the surrounding air, gulping it away to better maintain its intensity. Humans need fire, and so there will always be smoke. The atractiveness of the dance is never tiring. They are attracted to the deathly beauty, and yet the wrath is not to be taken lightly. In a battle of the two, rarely will the fire go down without a fight, without casualty. And so, someone lights the fire, and there comes the smoke. Yes, there comes the smoke.
The Collector.
I swear I posted a comment here two seconds ago. Anyways, this looks really cool. ^_^ I like the metaphor (I *love* metaphors) a lot. I like the way the narrator thinks, whoever he/she is. =P The fact you don't say is actually pretty neat, since (this being a preface) readers are going to scramble to figure out which character this came from (so they can attribute the necessary cool points this earned said character). ;-) Good hook. (I also like hooks! XD)
ReplyDelete^_^ Cheers! (damn, I have watched too many funny English people on youtube and am now saying 'cheers' >_< Next I'll adopt an Australian accent)