Lucas was just seven when he first felt it - a warmth in his palms that seemed to hum with life. He had been playing in the backyard, chasing fireflies at dusk, when it happened. His hands tingled, and before he could even understand what was happening, a tiny flame flickered to life in his fingertips.
Startled, Lucas stumbled back, quickly hiding his hand behind his back. He stared in awe at the small scorch mark on the grass where his fingers had brushed. His heart raced with excitement, but then came a pang of fear.
His family could never know.
Lucas's parents were strict, especially about anything "unnatural." His father, a man of routine and reason, always dismissed anything beyond the ordinary with a wave of his hand. His mother was kind but cautious, constantly warning Lucas to stay away from anything dangerous. Fire, he knew, was at the top of that list.
For days, Lucas practiced in secret, sneaking into the woods behind his house. At first, he could barely manage a spark. But soon, with concentration, his whole hand could burst into flames. The fire never burned him - it felt more like a warm hug, comforting and safe. Yet the thought of anyone else seeing it sent a shiver down his spine.
One evening, as the family sat around the dinner table, the power went out. Darkness swallowed the room, and his little sister Emma squealed in surprise. Lucas felt the familiar warmth rise in his chest, his instinct to help flaring up.
"I can?" he started, his hand already beginning to glow softly under the table.
But he stopped himself just in time.
His father groaned, fumbling for the flashlight. "Just stay calm. I'll find the candles."
Lucas clenched his fist, forcing the flames to die down. It was close - too close. Every day, it was getting harder to hide. He wanted to show them, to prove he wasn't something to fear. But he could see it in his father's eyes, the way he scoffed at the strange and unexplained. Lucas knew his secret had to remain just that.
Weeks passed, and Lucas's control grew stronger. But the need to hide made him lonely. The fire inside him wanted to be free, but his fear kept it locked away, trapped like a bird in a cage.
One afternoon, Emma found him in the woods, staring at his hands. Before he could react, she stepped closer, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Lucas, what are you doing?"
His heart pounded. He couldn't lie to her, not Emma. She was his best friend.
With a deep breath, Lucas opened his hand, letting a tiny flame flicker to life. Emma gasped but didn't back away.
"Is it? magic?" she whispered, eyes shimmering with wonder.
Lucas nodded. "I think so. But you can't tell anyone. Not Mom or Dad."
Emma smiled softly. "I won't. I promise."
For the first time, Lucas felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He wasn't alone anymore. And even though his family might never understand, at least for now, he had a small spark of hope, burning brighter with each passing day.
Startled, Lucas stumbled back, quickly hiding his hand behind his back. He stared in awe at the small scorch mark on the grass where his fingers had brushed. His heart raced with excitement, but then came a pang of fear.
His family could never know.
Lucas's parents were strict, especially about anything "unnatural." His father, a man of routine and reason, always dismissed anything beyond the ordinary with a wave of his hand. His mother was kind but cautious, constantly warning Lucas to stay away from anything dangerous. Fire, he knew, was at the top of that list.
For days, Lucas practiced in secret, sneaking into the woods behind his house. At first, he could barely manage a spark. But soon, with concentration, his whole hand could burst into flames. The fire never burned him - it felt more like a warm hug, comforting and safe. Yet the thought of anyone else seeing it sent a shiver down his spine.
One evening, as the family sat around the dinner table, the power went out. Darkness swallowed the room, and his little sister Emma squealed in surprise. Lucas felt the familiar warmth rise in his chest, his instinct to help flaring up.
"I can?" he started, his hand already beginning to glow softly under the table.
But he stopped himself just in time.
His father groaned, fumbling for the flashlight. "Just stay calm. I'll find the candles."
Lucas clenched his fist, forcing the flames to die down. It was close - too close. Every day, it was getting harder to hide. He wanted to show them, to prove he wasn't something to fear. But he could see it in his father's eyes, the way he scoffed at the strange and unexplained. Lucas knew his secret had to remain just that.
Weeks passed, and Lucas's control grew stronger. But the need to hide made him lonely. The fire inside him wanted to be free, but his fear kept it locked away, trapped like a bird in a cage.
One afternoon, Emma found him in the woods, staring at his hands. Before he could react, she stepped closer, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Lucas, what are you doing?"
His heart pounded. He couldn't lie to her, not Emma. She was his best friend.
With a deep breath, Lucas opened his hand, letting a tiny flame flicker to life. Emma gasped but didn't back away.
"Is it? magic?" she whispered, eyes shimmering with wonder.
Lucas nodded. "I think so. But you can't tell anyone. Not Mom or Dad."
Emma smiled softly. "I won't. I promise."
For the first time, Lucas felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He wasn't alone anymore. And even though his family might never understand, at least for now, he had a small spark of hope, burning brighter with each passing day.