Metaphor Time

David faced a dilemma. Because of the seemingly never ending danger he was in, he had only just now realized how hungry he was. It had probably been a day since he had last eaten. There was enough food in his backpack for a few days, so that wasn't an issue for now. The issue was he had no idea how to get rid of the flame alit over his left hand. And if he did get rid of it, he wasn't particularly confident he could re-form it. He needed some guidance.

"Kleymon, how do I get rid of this flame on my hand?"

"I DO NOT KNOW."

"What? How could you not know? You're supposed to be teaching me this stuff."

"MY EXPERIENCE WITH THE FLAME WILL BE QUITE DIFFERENT FROM YOURS. FOR ME, IT WAS SIMPLE, AS IF USING A MUSCLE. WITH ENOUGH PRACTICE, I COULD USE IT HOWEVER I WISHED. TELL ME, HOW DID YOU FORM YOUR FLAME?"

"I guess, I thought of it as a tool…sort of." It was hard explaining when he barely understood it himself.

"PERHAPS YOU MUST CONTINUE THAT THOUGHT THEN. DROP THE TOOL, DAVID. LET IT GO."

Could it really be that simple? He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

I have to let go. My hand is not a tool. It is part of me. I'm damn hungry, and need this hand to eat.

The numbness in his hand receded, and when he opened his eyes, the flames were gone as well.

He couldn't help but smile. It felt good to accomplish things like this, to see himself get better. Unfortunately, moments like these always brought back thoughts of the past. He had been directionless, nothing to look forward to, nothing he wanted to work towards. For now, he had direction, but how long would that last? How long before decay set in? How long before he started to drift through this life too?

Ghrrllll. His growling stomach brought him back to reality. Self doubt time is over. Time to eat. He devoured a can of black beans and a bag of dried fruits. Thankfully, he wasn't a very picky eater.

"Kleymon. I have to go back in the tunnel, don't I?"

"IF YOU WISH TO IMPROVE YOUR FLAME MANIPULATION QUICKLY, YES. ONLY THROUGH FACING DEATH CAN YOU GROW IN THIS WORLD."

Sigh. If not a bit hyperbolic, Kleymon was probably right. He had to fight more raskers.

But, he would be at least slightly more prepared this time.

He reimagined the disconnect, his tool of orange flame, and it enveloped over his left hand. Now, the disgusting part. Using the sharpened end of his flames, he sliced off one of the dead rasker's mandibles. It was about as long as a sword, and could certainly do some damage with its razor sharp edges. Taking off his cloth belt, he tied it around the base to create a makeshift handle, touching it bare would've made his skin crawl. Next, he took two of the torches from the cavern, and duct-taped them to the walls inside the tunnel.

With his preparations complete, he descended further into the tunnel's darkness.

After a few minutes of walking he heard the familiar scuttling sounds and smelled the horrible rotting stench. If he held his hand up straight above him, the orange flame provided just enough light to see the tunnel's ceiling and floor. Soon enough, he saw the clear slime oozing off the walls. With his eyes stuck to the ceiling, he proceeded with extreme caution.

TSsst. TSsst.

He spotted the legs of a rasker on the ceiling 10 or so feet ahead of him. It hadn't noticed him yet.

His plan had been to lead one back to the torches he had placed in the tunnel and fight it there, but, honestly, he didn't want to do that. They were fast and there was no guarantee he would even make it back without tripping over a rock again. Hmm. If only he had a weapon with better range.

It was time to get metaphorical again.

A deep breath in and out. I thought of the flame as a tool, something outside of myself. But how could that be? I am its creator, the one who forged it. It came from me, it must be a part of me.

I am changing. If you are a part of me, you must change too.

I do not want a blade. I want a spear.

He clenched his left hand tight, as if he was holding a thick wooden spear.

The orange flames shifted from his hand and began to wrap themselves tightly in between his palm and fingers, until they had formed a long shaft which touched the ground. Finally, at the tip, a sharp point of flame jutted into existence.

The numbness was gone. In his hand he felt the heat of the flame, and also a weight too.

He pivoted his body and heaved the spear with all his might at the rasker.

SKRSRRRRR. SKRRRRRR.

Ear-piercing screams reverberated through the tunnel as the rasker fell to the ground.

Please be dead, please be dead. He grabbed his flashlight from his pocket and shined it ahead.

TSSSSSST.

Just inches away, he slashed at it with the mandible sword before it could get to him.

SKRREEAAAA.

It stared at him from just a few feet away. Dark blood was oozing from its neck.

I need another spear. The sensation of heat and weight formed in his hand for a brief moment, then he launched it again. It spiraled through the air, and ruptured through the rasker's head, only stopping when it collided with a rock wall.

"YOU ARE MORE SKILLED WITH THIS WEAPON THAN I WOULD HAVE IMAGINED, DAVID."

"Well, I did javelin throwing in high school. These flame spears are close enough to those."

"LET US CONTINUE ONWARD THEN. PERHAPS YOU WILL SURPRISE ME FURTHER."

"I'll do my best."

When he met the next lurking rasker, he threw two of the spears in quick succession. It screamed and fell to the ground, but did not get up.

A few minutes walk past this rasker, he arrived at a crossroads. Two tunnels branched out to his right and left. After walking down the right tunnel for 10 minutes or so, he found two raskers perched on the ceiling.

They seemed to be…grinding on each other, for lack of a better phrase. The fur of one of them was a light gray. A female, I guess. Maybe they're mating. He left them alone and went back the way he came.

"WHY DID YOU NOT ATTACK THEM?"

"It just felt..wrong."

"MERCY IS FOR THE POWERFUL DAVID. YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO EXERCISE IT."

"Uh huh." Arguing with Kleymon never seemed to go well, so he kept the retort his mind was preparing to himself.

Plop

Plop

As he traveled down the other tunnel from the crossroads, occasionally drops of the clear slime would fall from the ceiling, and hit the ground. The rasker's slime was much thicker in this area. The smell was also even more unbearable, which he hadn't thought possible.

TSssst. TSssst. TSsst. TSsst. TSsst. TSsst.

Their hisses were still a distance away, but continued for longer than before. Either one rasker was very antsy to eat him, or there were a lot of them out there.

"I'm gonna go back, Kleymon. I think I've done enough today."

"ARE YOU AFRAID, DAVID?"

"Yes, Kleymon, I am. There's clearly a lot of them here and I dont think I'm ready to kill them all. Oh, and if you're gonna give me another generic Darwinian phrase about how I need to push past my fear to evolve, dont."

"I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOU DO HERE, DAVID. YOU MUST GROW TO TRUST YOUR OWN JUDGMENT."

I can never win with him, can I? He walked back the way he came. It had been his hope to improve his flame manipulation a bit more, but that tunnel was an extra level of foreboding he wasn't ready to face. Tomorrow, maybe.

Wait, is this fear legitimate, or am I just being lazy? Leaving it for another day, like I used to in the past. Maybe I need to push past my fear, or laziness, whatever it may be.

TSsst. TSsst. TSsst. TSsst. TSsst.

They're getting closer.

TSssst. TSsst.

That's strange, is that-

Shit. Shit. Raskers from both directions. Okay, that's fine. There's only one coming from this direction; I'll kill that one and keep going back to the cavern.

He prepared a flame spear, and as the sounds grew louder, the light from his spear dimly outlined two rasker's on the ceiling, 10 or so feet from him. One was the usual light brown, the other light gray. Were these the two he let live? It didn't matter.

TSSSSSSST. They scrambled across the ceiling towards him.

His first flame spear struck through the brown rasker's abdomen and it came tumbling down to the floor. The gray one shrieked and launched itself at him.

His body collided hard with the tunnel floor and knocked the wind out of him. The huge creature writhed on top of him.

Can't-

Breath.

SKREEEAAAAA SKREEEEEEA

The mandible sword was barely blocking the rasker's mandibles from carving into him.

Black shadows tinged his sight. Fading...just…one…breath.

HAHAHAHAHAHA

A kind, booming laugh echoed in his mind. It was not Kleymon's. Who was it? Ah, Kleymon's father. He was remembering that first vision in his apartment. What had Kleymon done to make his father laugh like that?

Oh. That's right.

His lungs smoldered inside and a torrent of flames erupted from his mouth as he finally breathed out.

The flames dwindled quickly, revealing parts of the rasker's skull protruding from the burned and candle-like melting flesh of its head. The Mandible sword had been destroyed as well.

He wheezed ragged breaths and heaved it off him. In the darkness, he heard the other rasker slowly skitter across the floor, dragging its wounded body towards him.

He fashioned a flame spear and plunged it through the creature's head.

TSSSST. TSSSST. TSSST. TSSSST.

Fuck. The rasker's from the other direction were close now, maybe 30 feet away. He didn't have the energy to outrun them.

With heat strangled lungs he breathed flames into his outstretched palms. The flames pooled into each other, growing larger and heavier, until an orb of flame the size of car tire weighed in his hands.

Four raskers emerged into the light, screeching and rapidly clawing across the ceiling. The orb practically crushed his arms as he brought it over his head and hurled it at them.

They were tightly grouped together, allowing the orb to cleave through the two closest to the middle. The two on the outside edges survived and lunged down from the ceiling towards him.

A great broadsword of flame blazed to life in his hands and swept through the air, sundering the creature's in half, milliseconds before they reached him.

The flaming sword dissipated into nothingness. His muscles felt like they had been ripped out his body and used to play tug of war. Each shallow breath he took was under the weight of a mountain. The urge to collapse racked his mind and body as he turned and staggered back the way he came.

"IN THE JAWS OF CALAMITY, YOU REMAINED CALM. I WILL TEACH YOU HOW TO CONCEAL YOURSELF IF YOU MAKE IT BACK TO THE CAVERN."

It sounded like Kleymon was saying something. He'd ask him about it later.