We make fire

These are the hours of moonrise. There is little to see but the dark waters that flow around the riverbed, a fresh evening breeze and long, tall shadows of the trees that grow all around the little Dock. In this time of the evening these creeping shadows of the trees flow like a blanket of blackness around the Brazier on the dock. No fire was lit. And so it allowed the shadow of the trees to engulf it.

This happened all the nights before and would not be of notice to anyone. But this night was not such a night. The Shade around the brazier was darker than normal, for this was a special night. It must have been from the dark waters behind the dock that a slender, dark shape would rise.

A wave of water, perhaps?
A rather curious fish, or Snake that would rear it's head up and look for something to eat?
Or was it just a Shadow of an unnamed tree somewhere out there, where the moon's light was playing with?

The Brazier let it happen. There was no fire lit to stop this shade from emerging over the dock.

..On this special night.

It was an embrace. The slender shape of shadow seemed to grow arms on it's sides and with those tentacle like arms without any detail it wrapped around the brazier for just a moment. It was the moment dark clouds floated before the moon, and the night darker than others ensued.

Yet in this moment of complete darkness, of the total embrace of shadows around the dock at the crossroads there it was.


The brazier was illuminated. And with that short burst of bright fire, there retreated the darkness and two bright, white Gloves were seen. The hands that had made fire, and now the flames reached out onto those hands, flames of the Brazier's fire, rise high.

Yet the white gloves retreated as the flames would close in. Higher and higher. Almost taunting the flames to burn brigher, and upward to the sky that needed the light. To cast away the clouds responsible for this darkest of nights.

To the sky the flames did not reach, yet they tried. All they met in their illuminating light, all that was revealed, was the shape of a mask, under a thick hood. And the shadow on the dock that first looked to strange, and shapeless, now reformed the shape of a Humanoid form, wearing black robes. But there was more detail to see, more to reveal. The flames reached out futher.

Curious as they went.

In the light of the Brazier there stands Jennifer ShadowKyss, the puppet player. It was her white gloved hands that made fire. And now these hands flow above the flames of the fire. It was a dance almost, of the flickering flames and the ever moving fingers of the Shadow Puppet player. It seemed almost as if her fingers were truely pulling the strings on the shape and rythim of the flames that burned in the brazier.

Would the flames care, would they reach her ever moving fingers?