Goldcrest

Goldcrest had asked me to tell a story about myself, a personal story this time.

While I have a lot of interesting tales to tell, the ones that are more personal are difficult.

My friends and I were sitting around a campfire one night. (These were the days where I was wandering and essentially homeless. I did anything for a copper. I stole, I gambled, I did small jobs and large jobs. I sometimes went hungry or ate from rubbish cans. I ran with a group of criminals who were much the same.)

And my friends and I were exchanging stories.
"What was the worst thing you ever lifted?" My burly friend asked. "As in, worthless. Couldn't squeeze a silver from it."
"That's easy," Said another. "There was once I broke into this old ladies house. I figured that an old woman would have something of value. I got in, and there was nothing but cats. Cats everywhere. So, I grabbed one."
"You stole a cat?" I asked in disbelief.

He nodded, and prodded the camp fire. It sparked and hissed back to life. "The stupid cat bit me about fifty times. I was never able to sell it."
"So, that's how you got your cat?" I laughed, and he nodded. We fell silent again, all of us amused about the origin story of our friend's feline companion.

"What about you?" I asked my other friend. He paused and scratched his ruddy, dirty beard and smiled. "What's the most worthless thing you ever stole?"

"Wasn't so much stole." He answered quietly. "As took. I took it. This girl's virginity! Was a year ago. The foreman's daughter, when I was working construction on the road running out from Booty Bay."
We all laughed at the lewd joke, although we knew he was completely serious.
"But, that isn't worthless." Another one of my criminal friend's pointed out. "Good, clean pussy. Always worth like, a million gold."

"Oh, it was worthless." He said gravely. "I now occasionally get bumps on my lips, because of her."

"...She probably wasn't a virgin, genius." I pointed out sagely. The entire group exploded into laughter. You could hear the joyous, loud, masculine peels across the entire beach, carrying through the night.

After the laughter slowly died down, my ruddy bearded friend looked at me. Another log was tossed onto the fire, and more liquor was passed around.

"What about you, Kia? What was the most worthless thing you ever stole?" He wondered.

I paused and thought and considered the question. "These." I said, removing two chiming stress balls from my pocket. "Yesterday, actually." I said darkly. One ball was black, and the other was white. There was no ornamentation, however they tinkled softly like little bells when rolled in the hand. "I thought they were made from ivory and could get a gold or two. I took them to an appraiser. And they're nothing. I went to a lot of trouble to get them. I listened to this old crone go on and on for hours. Babbling about shit. She was an employee from the Darkmoon Faire. She was just an elderly, lonely woman who wanted to bend someone's ear for a while. I swiped them on the way out. Payment for my troubles. Completely worthless." I complained with annoyance. Then, I tugged from the liquor bottle.

"Let me see them." My friend to my left said.
I offered them to him.

My friend examined the chiming stress balls, rolling them in his hand. They tolled like small silver bells as they moved and twirled in his palm. I watched in silence as he twisted and turned the stress balls in his hand. We were silent and watched the fire burn itself out. We drank and sat after the conversation came to a lull, merely enjoying one another's company to fend off the darkness of night and loneliness we felt. We continued to drink until every bottle was dry.
Someone mentioned something about the fire needing more wood as it was on the verge of death.

My friend then grunted and threw the white stress ball into the smoldering ashes.

The fire came to life, spurting like a small volcano. From the flames the vision of a bird rose. She was made of ornate orange and gold, every feather burned. The bird screeched and called out as she rose to the stars. We were all in a shock and panic. I was the only one who did not run.
I watched until the phoenix dissipated into the darkness. Ashes flowed from her magnificently long tail. After a while, she was gone and all that was left was a roaring fire and scattered embers that sparkled in the sand.

I found the black stress ball and tossed it in. I am not sure why, but I did. Perhaps it was because I was slightly drunk, or maybe I was curious and a little self-destructive. I did not know what to expect to happen. Yet, nothing did. I stood there, alone, and watched as silence consumed the night. There was no burst of light nor magic igniting from the fire.

I fell asleep on the beach shortly after.

When I awoke, the fire had burnt itself out. I shifted through the ashes. I found the remains of the white stress ball, cracked, broken, and nothing but cinders.
I also found the remains of the black stress ball, broken in two and not burnt. Like two pieces of obsidian  they were cold to the touch. Whatever it was had hatched and escaped.

I swiftly left then. I was not sure what was the opposite of a phoenix, but I knew I did not want to stick around and find out. Whatever had escaped from the ashes was now free, black and undying and unleashed upon the world. Maybe in our hearts, but certainly smoldering in the fires of the soul.

The end