Writing Prompt : Set something on fire.
It’s a beautiful thing when your Right arrives.
You could spend your entire life waiting for it. Five years. Ten. Fifty. Some were luckier than others; souls who did not need to look at the Pale upon each waking, did not need to wonder when and where and why for an eternity.
Theodore was one of those fortunate ones; seven years old and unburdened from the torture of never knowing. He snapped his fingers once and then harder twice, a frictional click and a pop of joints signalling a change. A momentary stillness. A spark.
In that instant you could no longer see the Pale. You could see no hand at all, only fire. Blue, hot, an orb that engulfed his small fingers but spread no further than he allowed.
The urge to set it free ate at him, compelled him like sinister words behind his ears. He knew what the flames could do and what they could burn, what they could begin. The temptation lingered as the dark fire swirled.
He put it out in a haste. Not today. There were better ways to change the world.