Contrast in the Night

The boy was nearing the end of his nocturnal journey. He was elated that he had reached his destination at the end of the edge of the forest. The conflagration was consuming the trees and the light of the fires was in stark contrast to the dark of the rest of the countryside. The boy often ruminated about the licking flames that he found to have an august grace about them. These trips to see the yearly wildfires had recently become a clandestine venture since the boy’s parents didn’t think his fascination was healthy. Their compunction with the boy’s hobby had led to many callous remarks. The boy didn’t mind though. The forbidden nature had made the show that much more indulgent. It was not as if the boy relished in the destruction, in fact it was the exact opposite. He found the destruction to be a tangible symbol of rebirth. Most people saw the wildfires as uncontrolled destruction of what should be indelible forests but the boy knew the tacit story behind the fires. He knew that they helped fertilize the soil and plant the next generation of trees all at once.