The fire flared up violently. Tongues of flames reached up into the midnight sky, grasping for the heavens, before being dragged back to the earth. It seemed even the elements were out of favour with the Gods. The fire continued to dance, setting waves of ashes free to dance in the moonlight.

Damien lit a cigarette and breathed in the fumes, taking a little satisfaction from this simple pleasure. He leaned back against a fallen tree and watched the forest come alive. The tall trees reached out, extending their green arms as they danced together in the wind. The breeze passed through the long grass, it rippled in the silent harmony, an oscillation of greens and yellow flowing innocently across the clearing. He brushed his hand above them, the blades teasing his skin. He breathed out and watched the trail of smoke drip from his lips, spiralling upwards before the wind scattered it to the ether.

Animals called out, each with an individual voice, speaking in a language he couldn’t understand. The shrill of the birds echoed above, the crickets courting in the grass; he consumed it all with a peace that he hadn’t felt in so long.

The stars dazzled above, a gap in the trees allowed him to see the Shassar Crown, a formation of six stars that resembled the tiara of an ancient queen, or so it was said. Damien didn’t bother himself to know the history, he just knew it meant he was travelling east. His home seemed a distant memory now, it had been two weeks but it seem a lifetime away. He had passed plenty of towns in his travels but none held what he sought; his journey’s end was just beyond the forest, only a few more days away. He watched the orange circle descend the paper of his cigarette and took a final drag before tossing it into the flames.

The fire was beginning to lose strength now, the tongues falling in height. He let it burn for a few more minutes, remaining in this harmony, the first night of clear thought in so long. Finally he forced his body to move; reaching into his bag he pulled out some meat and prepared it for cooking. He set it in a tray above the fire, as an after thought he grabbed some spices and sprinkled them over the meat. Grabbing a few vegetables, he cut them up and threw them in with the meat.

It sizzled quietly, echoing against the natural noises of the forests. He searched in his bag again and removed his hipflask, twisting the cap he took a deep sip of the foul alcohol. It burnt his throat but it felt good, made him feel alive still. Travelling on your own forces you to turn inwards, he hadn’t spoken to another person in four days now. He had spent the time first thinking of what he must do but his mind had soon spun backwards and he began to reflect on his life before this moment.

Damien’s life had always been unusual. He lived with his father and never even met his mother; in fact his father wouldn’t even speak of her. This man, his father, did in no way live up to this title; he was a lousy drunk he spent more time on the streets then he did at home. ‘A mind full of demons’ is what he had always said, seeming to forget Damien had only been six at the time. He was practically raised by his aunt until his teenage years, spending many nights beside his cousins.

Never, though, could he say his life had been really hard. His family were unbelievable rich, thanks mainly to his grandfather, a man he had never met but lived on the east coast. He had always been clothed and had an education, he was an exceptional reader and in his late teenage years he had gone to work at the library, making copies of all the old books. Simple work, yet he had enjoyed it, and there was good pay at the end of the week.

He pushed the bangs of brown hair out of his eyes and looked at his meal. It had coloured nicely so he pulled it from the flames and began to eat voraciously. The meat had passed its best and was beginning to turn and the vegetables had been from a street merchant; hardly the best meal but enough to keep his stomach happy. He consumed the meal within minutes and downed it with another swig of alcohol, he felt truly alive now.

His father had turned ill in the last month and with it had come the apology and a true reunion had occurred. The past was the past and he took the chance to make up lost time, visiting everyday to keep the old man happy. However it was during these visits that he had seen his father delirious sleeps, speaking in tongues. Damien had asked about them but his father only said, “a family curse”. His father, and his father’s father, had all suffered from “a mind full of demons”, probably he would too. Damien pushed him to talk about it some more, but his father never said anything again apart from one small thing. His grandfather had found out what it was.

Damien sighed. He never mentioned it to his father but he knew he suffered from the dreams already, a mixed reality of visions of things he didn’t have the words for. But if his grandfather knew something he had to find out what it was before it drove him to the same conclusion. He had left his father with his aunt and began this journey in the hope he could find the solution.

Now, in the moonlight, in the still air, he knew his father was dead. He lit another cigarette. “One for you, Dad.” He wasn’t sure how he knew, just a feeling. His gut felt tight and as he puffed on the cigarette he felt his eyes begin to fill up until the tears began to flow.

The wind swept upwards in protest, sweeping around him, whipping the trees into chaos. His fire blew out, the logs fading to a dead gray. Leaves were pulled from the branches and scratched against his skin. He watched it all as if he wasn’t there and threw the cigarette to the ground. It didn’t matter. The long grass circled him, testing his skin with their brittle blades. He pulled inwards away from it all, wrapping his arms around his knees.