the garden of flames

burning skin flowers

The Ghost and The Garden - Jana Brike

It began with the matchbox that was forgotten on the kitchen table. She felt called toward its yet-to-be-manifested warmth. She took out a match, lit it, and ran her finger over the flame. It burned—a sweet burn, just as she had imagined. In the days that followed, she felt drawn to the matchbox with a ritualistic reverence, returning to it again and again until she had gone through the entire box. Her fingerprints became charred.

As the days passed, an insatiable hunger for fire began to stir within her. She brought logs into the house and lit the fireplace. She sat beside it, surrendering both of her palms to the flames at once. The fire painted sunsets on her skin, from which red roses bloomed. The roses took over the fire, amplifying it.

One night, she looked down at her hands and saw that they had become gardens. She removed her clothes and, guided by the light of the moon, walked to her backyard. She set it on fire. Laying down on the ground, she surrendered her entire body to the flames. Buds began to sprout from her burning skin. She bloomed and bloomed until the flames and leaves reached the sky, wrapping themselves around the moon in an embrace.