The Flame's gift.

1

Smoke billowed from the twisted metal, the concertinaed grill exposing the mangled engine. The airbag slowly deflated, revealing the face of a very lucky man.

Owen lifted his head, with smoke now coming through the vents, he had to get out. quick. The driver door was jammed, the only thing that was still working funnily enough, was the interior light that he was using just seconds ago, to change tracks on the C.D player. He clambered over to the passenger side, trying to remain calm. With a hard shoulder barge, the door opened. He landed in a ditch, struggled to his feet and staggered away from the smoking vehicle. Once he was far enough away, he sat on the grass, coughing and spewing up clumps of blood.

It was a cold, dark night, and he could hear wildlife scurrying for cover in the undergrowth. The little Ford hatchback he'd had a lot of fun in, suddenly ignited with a subtle, "wuft ." The heat was too intense and he scrambled further away. After dialling 999, Owen sat clutching his bleeding leg. His head throbbed as he watched his pride and joy melt in front of his eyes.

He lay on the grass verge, staring at the gradually darkening sky. The car, still in flames, seemed to be moving away into the distance, or was it Owen that was moving. Did it feel like swimming, or drowning? All he was aware of was, he needed to sleep. Primary colours spun above him, bleeding into each other, creating a beautiful visual spectrum of: oranges, pinks and violets.

2

Owen's mornings consisted of coffee, more coffee; and the morning papers, particularly the horoscopes. Not that he really believed in all that stuff, that's what he convinced himself of anyway. He often thought how funny it would be if one morning, he stepped outside, and love was actually in the air, the planet's would align, and he could just pluck it from the sky and live happily ever after. Finishing his third cup of coffee he turned to the horoscopes.

Taurus.

Every encounter that you have now is characterized

By a surge of purpose. The quality of

your interactions will improve dramatically and you

may even come in contact with somebody who will

revolutionize your life on a spiritual level. You will

get a better insight into your own character and

this will help you to decide on the direction of your life.

A sense of energy will fill your mind today,

take full advantage of this opportunity.

With a chuckle and a shake of the head he finished his coffee, grabbed the car keys and headed off.

Owen tried so hard to be genuinely warm towards others, but he hated each and every one of them. He had different faces for every situation. Faces he had developed by himself to fit any eventuality. So multi faceted was he, that everyone: liked him, admired him, or even wanted to be him, no doubt there were some who could see through him but he didn't care. Being around others though, was something he never relished.

He led a very sedentary life, he had a desk job which he disliked enormously. He went home in the evening and played computer games, and every Saturday night would be spent in his local, in the same chair, alone. Not many people were allowed in his bubble, just the thought of having to listen to someone's monotonic, one sided conversation, was enough reason to be alone.

After reading the evening paper, and only one beer down him,

he decided to call it a night. The bar was very quiet for a Saturday, In his peripheral vision he saw a vision of beauty.

It was like one of those poor movie moments when the femme fatale would, with a seductive wiggle, walk past with her long hair blowing in the breeze; regardless of the fact there was no breeze. She would smile, and slowly saunter past. In reality, she did smile at him, then bumped into a chair, offered a profanity and said,

'oops clumsy; hi Owen, having a good evening?'

He looked her up and down, desperately trying to work out how she knew him. 'I'm sorry do I know you? 'he muttered.

She smiled at him, but his features remained impassive.

'Janice from work! We only spoke a couple of hours ago,' she stared back at him, hoping that he would recognize her. 'Mind if I join you?'

'Hey Janice, sorry, in a world of my own there, Erm, I was just about to leave actually, but please, take a seat.'

The pair sat for twenty minutes, Janice spoke constantly about work whilst Owen sat trying hard not to stare at her cleavage. In fact he hadn't heard a word she had said, her mouth moved and her breasts jiggled every time she laughed or threw her hair over her shoulders. Owen recognized the signs. Janice was trying to seduce him. It was working too, there was clearly an attraction between them. Janice kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, giving him a brief flash of her inner thigh. Owen felt an intense pressure coming from within, he wanted her and he was going to have her.

'Fancy another drink Janice? I was going home but im enjoying your company.'

He could hear the lies tumbling from his lips as he went to the bar. He didn't care that she was boring him to death, he was going to be intimate with a woman, and seemingly a willing one at that.

Janice continued talking, he watched intently as her soft, wet lips, teased him. Occasionally her tongue would appear and lick her top lip seductively, he could take it no more.

'So, Janice, where shall we go from here ?'

Owen shuffled across the floor on his chair, until he was right at her side. He placed his hand just above her knee and stroked her thigh.

Janice jumped a little in her seat, looked uncomfortably at her suitor, and purposely removed his hand. She kept hold of his hand by their side.

'Woah there big guy,' she said firmly, 'let's take this slowly shall we, what's the hurry, we've got all night you know.'

He moved in closer, squeezed her hand hard and in a low menacing voice said,

'You've been dick teasing me all night, and now you want to take it slow? You're all the same, coming on to us one minute, then fucking us off the next.'

She pulled her hand sharply from his, quickly stood up and grabbed her coat. 'I think maybe you've had too much to drink, who do you think you are, talking to me like that?'

She stood, and turned to the door, everyone in the bar had stopped what they were doing, their eyes darting between the uncomfortable pair. Janice shook with fear, she wasn't going to let him see how scared she actually was, and with purpose, strode out of the pub. Owen sat and stared at the gradually closing door. The door that Janice had, a moment ago, stormed through as if in a western saloon bar.

'Kudos, Janice.' He muttered, 'great exit.'

He finished his drink, grabbed his coat and headed home. The alcohol was beginning to play tricks with his mind, lights appeared in his vision, blinding him. He was beginning to take more chances, muttering things to himself and swearing randomly at passers by.

He couldn't get Janice out of his mind though, she had turned him on, but strangely it was guilt that he was feeling. Owen was not the type of person to feel guilt, he didn't care, or feel emotions for others. He was the type, though, to get angry at people, simply because, for whatever reason, they frustrated him. People's stupidity and ignorance incensed him, which often provoked an unnatural reaction. He was the type of character that would rapidly vent his frustrations, as a way to find order, through catharsis. He knew it was a chaotic way of feeling better, but it worked.

Owen's eyes misted over, he decided to pull over to the side of the road. Something told him to stop, he never cared before that he could kill himself or others whilst driving drunk. He removed the keys from the ignition, threw them on to the back seat, and leaned forward with his head resting on the steering wheel.

Ten minutes had passed by and Owen hadn't moved, his eyes were open and tears ran down his cheeks. A great sadness filled his heart. He sat back in the seat and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

Owen? Are you ok? Let me in, its starting to rain! ' Janice stood, frantically trying to open the door. He jumped a little and immediately pulled up the latch, Janice dived onto the back seat.

'I was just going for a kebab, when I spotted you. Were you crying?' She leaned forward between the front seats. His eyes looked red and swollen, he turned his head away and stared at the window, watching rain drops chase each other down the glass.

'So what if I have, men cry too you know!'

Janice clambered over the seats, reached out and gently turned his head towards her. 'Don't let the Demons win Owen, they will destroy you if you let them.' She looked deep into his heavy, bloodshot eyes. 'Lets go somewhere quiet, have a drink, and if you feel like it, we can talk.'

He wanted to scream out loud, tell the whole world how he felt. He wanted Janice to hold him, comfort him, tell him that everything would be alright. Something inside of him felt different. There was a drastic shift in his internal energy, a change of perspective. His: body, mind, heart and soul felt more focused, almost as if the lens in which he viewed his life was changing. Things were beginning to appear clearer in his mind, like an illuminating discovery. A realisation or insight into his past life and behaviours, flew across his mind.

I wonder if this is how it feels, moments before you die? He thought.

He felt a new kind of strength, and more clarity into the direction his life should be heading.

'I'm so sorry Janice, for the way I treated you earlier,' he paused and looked down at his feet, 'there was no excuse for my behaviour. If that offer of a drink is still on the table next weekend, I'd love to, but for now, I'm confused and a little scared and need to get home.'

He raised his head to look at Janice, he caught his breath a little as he realized that the passenger seat was empty. He turned and looked on the back seat, nothing. His head turned quickly in all directions, looking outside to see if he could see her. She was nowhere to be seen, did he imagine her, or was she part of his revelation, epiphany, or whatever it was. For now the decision not to over think this made sense, getting home was more important.

As Owen headed home, music blared from the C.D. player, it helped him to concentrate. An oncoming car's headlights blinded him for a second, he felt a little discombobulated. The back end of the car fishtailed. He tried to control the slide, he almost managed it, but felt his heart jump into his mouth as the tree appeared in front of him.

All went dark.

'You have suffered cuts to the: head, face and arms, deep lacerations to your calf muscle, and you are one lucky son of a bitch.' The Doctor stood over him shaking his head in disbelief, as he read his chart. The thought of how he might look right now, was over shadowed by the amount of pain he was in. With all the wires and tubes attached to various parts of his body, he couldn't get up and look in a mirror.

Owen slept a lot during that day and night, with strange images and visions clouding his dreams.

He sat in his car as flames engulfed his body, there was no escape. He watched in terror as his hands melted, the flames disappeared as he screamed. Then he found himself standing in a field full of beautiful, pink orchids. A golden Light surrounded his body, it travelled up, and circled above, then entered his body through the top of his head and down through his spine. He felt at peace with himself,

a tranquil calmness encompassed him.

Nurses and Doctors surrounded him, his exhales became longer, and deeper. His body jerked and spasmed. People buzzed around him like annoying wasps, he wanted to swat them away, leaving him to wallow in his serenity. He opened his eyes as his breathing regulated itself.

'We thought we'd lost you there buddy,' one Doctor said with relief. As the panic subsided they left him to rest, he was now fully awake though and itching to get up and see how he looked. How strange it was to feel no pain, maybe the painkillers had numbed him. He lifted his hands and felt bandages and dressings on his face, he pressed on one quite firmly, wincing as he did so, expecting the pain, but none came. He pressed on another, harder this time, still nothing.

'Mighty fine painkillers you got here Doc,' he muttered to himself.

He glanced down to see his leg heavily bandaged too, but couldn't reach to feel it. As Owen closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, once again flames engulfed him. He hoped that these visions would dissipate with time, for each time he closed his eyes, he pictured himself burning to death.

He was awoken in the morning by the sight of a nurse standing next to his bed.

'Just going to change your dressings Mr Chapman.'

She smiled sweetly as she ripped open a pack of dressings, she took a corner of his dressing and gently pulled it away from his skin, the nurse stood, staring in disbelief at the sight that confronted her.

The nurse looked puzzled,

'bear with me Mr Chapman, I need to get a Doctor to see this.'

Owen frowned, 'what's up.'

She didn't respond, just walked away. He pulled all of his tubes and wires off his body, shuffled across the bed and swung his legs over the side.

After a few wobbly seconds he stood firmly, holding cautiously to the bed. He expected his leg to be hurting with the pressure he was putting on it, but it didn't. He walked with caution over to the bathroom, pulling dressings from his arms and legs as he walked. He opened the door, once inside he turned his head to look in the mirror. He stared at himself, perplexed, he ripped the dressing from his face.

His Doctor stood in the doorway, his mouth gaping at Owen's reflection, Owen spun around to face him.

'Doc, I don't understand, what's going on?'

The nurse took his hand and led him to the bed,

'lay down Mr Chapman, let the Doctor examine you.'

As he was being examined he could see other Doctors muttering to each other.

'What the hell is going on, will someone please tell me what's happened to me!' he pleaded.

Owen needed answers, he reached down and ripped the final dressing from his leg, and sat, totally silent, everyone in the room staring in disbelief.

'There is no way, given the extent of tissue damage, that your body could have healed this quick Mr Chapman. The cuts and lacerations that you suffered would have scarred you for life.'

The Doctor sat on the bed and continued, 'yet here you are, without a scratch; anywhere on your body.'

He was dumbfounded, he hadn't seen his injuries, but he sure felt the pain, but today, there were no: cuts, bruises or any marks of any kind. Come to think of it his whole appearance looked like it had been cleansed. He wondered about his dream last night, the vision of the pink orchids and the golden light, had it been a dream? or some kind of healing process. Whatever had happened, had healed his wounds overnight. Was it divine help? Had he truly been returned to his better self? He would become a medical miracle. but surely this was more of a spiritual miracle, who knew the real truth? Who cared, he felt and looked amazing, it was a gift he wasn't going to turn