The World's Ablaze

DISCLAIMER: this is my story, this plot came from my mind, these characters I made, so if you wish to use my characters you may ask my permission. (I most likely will let you.) Please DO NOT take my story or story line. I\'m sure you could make one just as good (if not better) than mine.

Also, this story will eventually become graphic (not until later chapters) so if unprotected sex, masterbation, or a minor dealing in adult situations bothers you LEAVE NOW.

On a different note, I am also the author of Monster, which is the first story I posted on AFF.net, if you like The World\'s Ablaze please view Monster also, I hope you like them both.

Please Enjoy!
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A cold breeze rose off the surface of the ocean, rising to the high stone peaks of the mansion walls. Reaching in its climb a single open window in the highest floor of the marvelous stone building. The mansion stood on a high cliff, very much near the ledge that overlooked a small and narrow shoreline, which then reached to meet the merciless ocean. A small garden stood between the building and the ledge, holding various types of fruit trees and many flowers. Mostly the garden was occupied with Dogwood, the favorite tree of the young heiress who lived in that cold and harsh environment. The large mansion was occupied by only three beings. The Lord of the estate, Henson, his daughter Alex, and an old but lively servant woman named Agatha. The estate was so large; it was easy for each of them to live separately, never seeing each other for days or possibly even weeks. And they usually never did, unless one was to seek out another. And it was on this particular day that Henson wished to find his daughter, and to speak to her of her recent introvertness.

Alex stood at the cold window of her room; the glass was pushed out as the wooden panes reached out towards the sea. The garden sat below her, then past that, a cliff. She couldn’t see the shoreline being brutally beaten, but she could hear it. Constantly thundering against the sand, angry at the shore for stopping it’s travels. She gazed out at this scene for what seemed like an eternity. She was always at her window these days, something inside her was crying out for release, for freedom but she knew not what. She had always felt she was free; she was far luckier in fathers than most girls like her. She was never pushed to marry, to further her father’s estate. It was a solitary life she lived, and she had no sorrows towards that.

A small knock at her door pulled her from her toiling mind as she quietly whispered her words, as if they were deep curses with much conviction.

“Enter father.”

She didn’t turn to face him, only seemed to dwell harder out the window, wishing greatly to be alone with her strange thoughts. It was different these days, the ocean. When she was a child it was a playmate, a kind friend, and a beautiful partner. But now something dwelled within it that sent fear into her heart, something had taken her friend the ocean away and had replaced it with something evil.

“I’ve come to ask you to dinner. I feel you are distant these days and I wish to close the gap.”

She smiled, somewhat evilly, down at the garden. The breeze blew again and pulled some of the soft white petals from her dogwoods to carry them away on the air. She was distant; she wished to be away and alone in a place that no one could find her. But why? There was nothing pulling on her, nothing that she could see. But she could indeed feel forces that were drawing together, pushing and pulling each other to create a grander plan that she could imagine. The distances were drawing nearer it seemed, as the elements grew angry in their daily toil.

“I think I’ll go for a ride, father.”

He sighed and nodded as he left her, quietly closing the door behind him. He understood that she wasn’t coming to dinner, at least not with him.

Since she had been small Alex felt an amazing attachment to nature, everything about it always fascinated her. When she swam the water lifted her and pushed her along, bending to her will and her whim on demand. The fire in her fireplace would always burn so warmly in the winter, even when the wood was short it seemed to blaze as brightly as she wished it. And the wind, her close friend. When she rode through the woods or open fields the wind would always caress her cheeks softly, wrapping her long black hair around her neck or back away from her face. And there was always nature itself. The world that she lived in was beautiful, vast forests and open fields of tall grasses and wildflowers. Mountains stood looming in the distance, a small pass through them was the only road out of her paradise and into the world. She had never traveled that road; she had never wished to leave her lands.

She smiled to herself as she reminisced over her old childhood dreams. She had read many books in her life but one that always drew her attention was a small pocket book, leather bound and badly worn but a knowledgeable book nonetheless. It spoke of people who could channel nature called Elementals. They were said to be in tune with nature as she was, and for a time in her childhood she had tried to force their talents from herself. But she was no Elemental. They were able to manipulate the elements, to create them and use them for protection or fighting. It said that they hid in the remote places of the world, escaping the publics’ eye and staying ever near to the natural world. She had been so disappointed in herself when she couldn’t call herself an Elemental. But nonetheless there was something pulling in her. The world seemed to be collapsing these days; the natural state of things seemed tense and angry. And at nights, everything was so quiet, no frogs or grasshoppers, only the infuriated beating of the ocean on the shore.

She smiled at herself, lowering her gaze to her windowpane. It was all foolish; there was no such thing as Elementals. She had never heard of such a thing outside of that small book, it was all rubbish. She had convinced herself of that long ago, when she failed to label herself as one.

Turning away from her window she examined her bleak room. The fireplace was cold, filled with ashes from many cold nights. The stone hearth looked worn and almost dusty, but no dirt would be found on its surface. Her bed was neatly made, the sheets pulled tight over the surface. The only other thing occupying her room was a long dresser with a large mirror on the wall behind it. A beautiful gold rim held the delicate glass, inlaid with crusted jewels and silver. It was her most prized possession. She gazed at herself a moment, taking in her dark eyes and high cheekbones. She had a beautiful bone structure, with a thin and subtle jaw line that complimented her cheeks. Her slender throat met her prominent collarbones that were well visible in the somewhat low cut of her velvet dress. The fabric hung neatly off her shoulders, a subtle white frill creating the collar the leading into the black velvet of the dress. The cloth was thin, and she wore no corset today. It flowed regally over her breasts to her narrow ribcage down to her small waist. There hung a silver chain that led down her left thigh. It then flared over her feminine hips and hid the shape of her thighs and calves, covering her all the way to the floor in black velvet folds.

She ran a slender hand over her shoulder until she reached cloth, examining her softly pale skin. Despite many of her perfections she most adored her hair, which fell like silk down her back and over her shoulders. From her roots to the tips every hair stayed in place, always caressing their neighbors to the degree that her hair really did appear to be silk. It held a shine when the light struck it’s curve, and always felt into the exact place that threw the watcher into awe. She sighed lightly as she began to slip the dress off her form. She was to go riding, and velvet was most definitely not appropriate for riding.