An old poem– My version of an old poem, written in a story way- I hope you enjoy it! Tell me in the comments which one do you like more!

The fire burns in the stove,
Gripped by fear, you sit and listen.
The fire begins to speak.
It tells you stories
And asks if you would like all its power.
At once, you answer,
“All of it.”
The fire takes you into the depths.
From the depths, a rider appears.
You know nothing more about the fire.
Tears run down your face like a child’s.

---

The fire burns in the stove.

Its flames dance .

They rise around pieces of burning wood as though each flame knows a different story.

You sit before it and listen.The fire begins to speak.It tells stories about its power.Stories of kingdoms that rose and fell.

Stories of men who believed they held the world in their hands.

Stories of crowns heavier than mountains.

Stories that have survived longer than those who lived them.

The flames keep moving.

The fire asks only one question.

“Would you like all my power?”

“All of it.”

The fire takes you into the depths.

There is no time to look back.

No time to call out.

The warmth is gone.

The flames are gone.

The stories are gone.

Only the cold remains.

Grey stone surrounds you.

A room.

Nothing more.

No windows.

No door.

No fire.

Just enough light to know where you are.

In the far corner stands a rider.

He does not move.

He does not speak.

He does not even seem to breathe.

You wait.

Nothing.

You call out.

Nothing.

You look around for the fire.

It is gone.

You know nothing more about it.

Only the cold remains.

Slowly, tears begin to run down your face like a child’s.

The rider never moves.