The Short Story

Once upon a time there was a beautiful baby girl. She was the princess of a small kingdom in the east. When the princess was born her hair was a bright red.

As the princess got older. Her hair got brighter. It was so bright that the villagers made stories about her. They said that if you looked at her hair your soul would burn. If you touched her hair you would turn to ashes. They called her the girl of fire.

The frightened king took action. He locked up the girl of fire in the highest tower. The tower was made of hard rock and the window was barred. The girl wept for years on end, letting her tears run freely. Until one day she felt revenge.

All her sadness had gone away. Revenge ate her now. Her hair looked like fire and her body glowed red. As she put her hand on the tower, it burned to the ground.

The villagers were screaming. They ran and hid in their houses. But the girl of fire didn't give them another thought. She had eyes only for the king.

The king was getting on his horse with a few servants behind him. He locked eyes with his daughter and then without another thought sped off. The girl of fire merely smiled and put her hands out. Flames came out of her hands. They wisped up in the air and then took shape.

The flames made a horse. The flame they called it. It was fierce and strong. And wherever it stepped the ground grew hot with fire.

The girl of fire however merely put her hand to the horse's nose and rode away.

When the flame rode into the kings camp. It was silent. The girl of fire let out her hands and let flames leep out onto the servant's tent.

She found her father on his knees crying for mercy. But the girl only put her hand to his chest and watched him burn.

" Goodbye, Papa." She said as she let her hand go.

The girl of fire had gone out. The vengence that was there before had gone out. Her hair turned black as ash. Soon her body did too. The girl of fire had turned to the ash girl.

The flame had turned to a normal horse. It could be seen galloping in a meadow in the east. As for the stories. They lived on. And in a small orphanage in a small little town they were told every night.