SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

I raised my pistol. All in a moment, he was behind my sister, hiding, laughing. “You are so fast, friend, so strong. Clever.” He peeked at me from over my sister’s head. “But can you hit me and not her?”

My hands did not shake, though my eyes did narrow.

A flower of flame burst to life in Smokey’s hand and I could not breathe as it danced and flickered inches from my sister’s lighter fluid dress.

“Did you ever figure it out?” he asked, desperate need flooding his voice. “Did you figure out the secret?”

“Breath is the soul,” I said. “But you can’t steal it. You need the smoke of the flesh to see, to know. Breathe the smoke, know the soul. It’s never been about the fire, it’s about what comes after.”

“You sound like my disciple,” he said, sounding proud.

“Maybe I am.” I licked my lips. “You taught me everything you think you know. But now we’ve reached the point of no return. You always wanted knowledge. You sucked up smoke from anything that would burn because you’re so goddamn curious to know its secrets. But, you have never known the one thing that haunts you.”

His eyes were dark, hearing the truth of it. “You can do what you want to yourself, Smokey,” I said. “But you’re not taking her with you.”

His smile disappeared and he rose to his feet. He held the lighter over my sister. “You might know the secret, disciple. You might understand the ending. But if you think you can finish this story, you’re wrong. You’re not telling the story here. I am.”

“How does it end then, Smokey?” I asked, creeping forward, gun raised. “How does your story end?”

He grinned at me. “You know that stories don’t end. They only begin again. I burn to know but I’ve never known myself! Once I burn, I’ll breathe in myself and become the snake that chases his tail. I’ll breathe deep the story of my life, and then…Well, then I will know for sure what is wrong with me,” he said.

I saw tears cut streaks in the film of oil, though he still smiled. He sounded like he was hearing himself for the first time, and liked what he had to say. “We’re all broken in some way, aren’t we? That’s why I wanted you to come with me, wanted your sister to come with me. You both deserve a chance to know yourselves. I’m just trying to help.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but my heart broke in that moment. “Smokey,” I said, “If this is you helping, you’re doing a shitty job.”

He thrust the lighter over my sister’s head. “You think you don’t need my help? You think you can answer everything with your fists, shrug off every hollow feeling inside you, because what? Because that’s all you’ll ever be?” He shook his head, sad, smiling but sad. “There’s more to life than that,” he said. “And I’m going to show you both.”

I edged closer, only feet away. He squared his shoulders and brought the lighter close to his heart, as though standing vigil at his own wake.

“We’re not going to be broken anymore,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I’m not going to be broken anymore.”

“Oh, Smokey, you’re not broken,” I said, flicking the safety off. “You’re just human.”

The bullet buried itself deep into Smokey’s heart. The momentum of its silver flight tore the lighter out of Smokey’s hands and onto his body.

The gasoline roared with pleasure as Smokey went up in flames. He did not make a sound. He did not move. He only smiled.

Throwing away the gun, I took off my jacket and ran past my sister, throwing myself at Smokey. The jacket grew hot as I got under his armpits and pushed him back, away from my sister. I had to get him away from the gasoline on the floor and out the back door.

Thick curls of black smoke rose from his body as he burned. I tried not to breathe, but the smoke found its way to my nostrils and I coughed and choked on his burning body. My jacket was beginning to catch.

Smokey’s legs suddenly gave way as he died and the fire fell with him. The floor ignited, sweeping out in all directions.

“See you on the other side,” he rasped, before an ocean of flame swept over him.

Abandoning my jacket, I turned on my heel, still choking on the ashes of my friend and raced back. In a moment, I had my sister in my arms. I ran for the door, through the newborn flames.

My muscles screamed but I charged ahead. In a moment, I burst through the doors, emerging into the night air. Its cool kiss soothed my burnt and aching body.

Siren wails emerged from the silent night as I untied my sister. When the tape came loose, she screamed and raged, a raw and choked sound. She fell against me, and we collapsed to the cold pavement. We held each other tight, and did not cry. If I closed my eyes, it could have been ten years ago.

Together, we watched Smokey burn under the moon.

Autumn comes after a silent summer. One October night, I sit in front of a bonfire.

I can still smell the gasoline, even now. I can still remember the taste of my friend’s ashes, the clogging swell of his smoke in my throat.

I watch the logs whine and split, mesmerized by the threads of smoke that leak from their wounds. I watch those grey serpents spin in the air, and I want to—I want to breathe them. To know them.

But that is impossible. I know it is impossible.

I’ve thrust my face into the smoke before I can stop myself. I don’t regret the sweet burning as I breathe the smoke. I feel more complete than I have in some time.

The smoke settles in my lungs, and my head snaps up to the dark forest around me, a forest more intimate to me than just moments before. A vision flashes to life before me.

A broken door stands alone in the dark woods. Sitting behind it is a child, still as calm water. There is a great heat all around him, painting him in sunset colors. A woman in shadow holds a match inches from his face. The child is not scared in that moment.

But I am.

Because the child has eyes the color of gasoline, teeth like tar. I taste ash in the back of throat. I smell gasoline and burnt flesh.

Looking up from the vision, I see a man made of smoke standing beside me. I see him and know those colorless eyes beneath the threads of his wispy body.

Smokey is silent. Only points at the vision, smiles.

I am not alone in my body. I am not alone in my breath. Beneath my breath, there is another, waiting.

It just took him a while to arrive.

Some part of me knows that if he wanted to, Smokey can make me stand and march me into the fire.

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

For now, the two of us sit in the dark before the fire, before the vision, and watch a freshly broken boy learn of smoke.

Originally Published by Fireside Fiction

The sky is gold, black and red, ripe and flush with the end of the world. It is really happening this time.

We sit on grass on a hill and eat ice cream.

“I’m thinking aliens,” you say, through a mouthful of Rocky Road.

I shake my head. “Not aliens. I’ve got a bet with Allen. If it’s aliens, I’m out five grand.”

You raise a perfect blonde eyebrow. “Five grand over aliens?”

I shrug, wiping my chin. “If the world is ending, I figure ‘go big or go home.’” You still don’t believe me.

There is a rumble of something immense and metallic, bearing down on poor, little Earth filled with poor, little people. “If it’s giant robots, I’m going to be really put out.”

You nod, agreeing with my nonsense. It’s why I love you. You stare at a new carton of ice cream with a passion I’ve only seen you reserve for Welsh Corgi puppies and Kill Bill Vol. 2 . Wordless, you show me: Neapolitan.