The Heart
of Living Flame
by Anthony Santiago
A little park was always empty at the same small
hour each morning, long before the rise of the sun.
Those few who would have occupied it knew to be away
or to take cover in one of the many secluded nooks.
Scarlet-gold flames, bright as daylight, filled the
sky and illuminated a cracked sidewalk lined by bent
trees and graffiti-covered benches. The conflagration fell
to the ground in a whirling column like a twister. Bright
tongues of fire surged forth, rippling the grass in waves
of heat, as the flames dispersed to reveal the man who
stood in their midst.
Phoenix smiled. He could never resist an
entrance, even when there was no one of consequence
around to witness it. His red and orange cape, designed
to flicker in a way that accented his flames, flapped in
the last gusts of heat. He reached up to adjust his cowl,
stylized to resemble a bird of prey, that had come askew
during the flight. Soft pink light shone from his body as
he stepped off the sidewalk and into a nearby public
restroom.
The man who exited the squat concrete building
moments later looked like no one in particular. Dressed
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