As your story ends the flames grow dimmer.  There is fire yet to spin our tales.

 

Your story was adequate Jennifer, if perhaps a bit overlong and underdeveloped.  Katy stop looking over your shoulder and focus on the stories; we're safe so long as the fire burns.  I assure you the rustling was only the wind through the leaves.

 

Let my words mingle with the surrounding smoke as I tell our second story.

---

I've seen them flitting about at night, low-flung stars taunting foolhardy wanderers into following them.  Though I plan to follow one tonight I'm no fool.  I am going to capture a will-o-wisp.

 

I know it won't be easy to capture one, it's taken me weeks to get the measurements right, but I am certain that a large bug-catching net with the netting reinforced with silver thread will do the trick.  With a flick of the wrist I should be able to ensnare one of the giddily elusive creatures, pinning it between the earth and my net.  As for getting close enough to nab one the approach is deceptively simple: aim your path to either side of one and not straight for it.  The logic behind the method is fairly straightforward: the will-o-wisp lures people to its visible position, which it won't be at when they arrive; in order to find yourself standing right beside one you have to go to where it will be, and not where it currently is.  Even if you guess wrong they'll often reappear again and again, giving you ample chances to catch up to one.  All you need is to be correct in predicting its position once and you've done it; just a single time out of twenty or so attempts.

 

With my net balanced on my shoulder I trek into the dark fen near my house.  The sky is overcast tonight, grey clouds of condensation blocking the countless constellations.  The waning moon struggles to push its pale light through a closing gap in the cloud cover.  The next house is a mile away and the people who dwell there long since asleep.  I know that there will be only two lights shining on the quiet mire tonight: the flashlight in my offhand and my quarry. 

 

It doesn't take long, maybe twenty minutes of wandering the familiar paths, before I see its flicker.  It looks to be a quarter mile away or so, a pinprick of dancing light off to my left.  I begin moving across the squelching ground, aiming myself about ten degrees to its right.  Halfway there I change course, realizing that continuing on my intercepting path would lead me straight through a patch of slimy pond water.  It takes me longer than I want to circumvent the pond, but I'm in no hurry.  The light has moved since the last time I saw it, but this time it's closer.  I set off towards it again, aiming myself five degrees to its left.  Mud sucks at my footsteps as I slow to a halt again five minutes later.  I've missed it again, but that's okay.  Probability states that as long as I can't make the wrong choice every time that with enough persistence I will make the correct choice at least one time.  And one time will be all I need.

 

I spend another two hours stomping around the dark, stinking bog.  Sometimes I find myself closer to the flickering creature I'm pursuing, other times slightly further away that I started.  One time I see it a mere ten feet away but I know not to rush towards it; even at ten feet it would still be too far to reach before it vanished.  Patience, I keep repeating in my head, Patience and Probability and Persistence.  I have all night to hunt the creature.

 

Finally, inevitably, my tangential path is stopped suddenly by a flash of light ten inches to my right.  Adrenaline courses through my bloodstream, my nerves singing with surprise, as I swoop the net over the dazzling creature.  It crumbles to the ground under a mesh of silver as I excitedly rummage through my pack for silver serving tray that fit just right over the underside of the net.  As I prepare to slide it under, ensuring that I could carry my captured catch back to my home, its lights begin to change colors. 

 

It begins pulsing in blues and purples and whites, each pulse of color expanding and contracting in a steady rhythm.  My movements slow; my clumsy fingers fumble with the silver plate and drop it onto the ground.  When I try to pry my eyes away from the light to look for the fallen plate I can only do so for a few seconds before they wander back to the distressed creature's pulsing patterns.  I try again and again, my hunting motto pounding through my head: Patience, Probability, Persistence.  One of these times I'll look down and find it before my eyes are forced back to the swirling lights.  I begin blindly running my fingers across the moist ground even when I can't see what I'm doing, knowing that I've increased my probability of finding it.

 

 

I don't know how long it takes, but eventually I feel the cool lip of metal with my finger.  I drum the rest of my fingers on that hand across it, my eyes struggling and fluttering against the light pouring out of the net.  To my eyes they seem brighter than before, but perhaps that is only due to fatigue.  I slide my thumb under the edge of the dish, patiently taking my time to ensure I have a good grip.

 

 

I clamp my hand down on the silver plate, inching myself forward to slide it under the net.  I halt with a gasp when I hear its voice, air-thin and soft:

 

"Stop!"

 

My limbs freeze in place, my arms stopped in the action tilting the lip of the net up ever-so-slightly to slip the silver plate beneath.  It feels like they've gone numb, unresponsive to my mental commands and with no sense of touch other than a oddly pleasant tingle radiating through my nerves.  My eyes are stuck watching the pulsing, swirling lights of the will-o-wisp as they take up more and more of my focus.  I try to remember my hunting motto, hoping it will encourage me to continue fighting its influence.

 

 

"Let me out of this net," the wisp demanded.  There was a compelling tone to its voice, something that made it slide so easily along the lights filling my mind.

 

My arm begins to turn slowly and stiffly; my joints feeling like two millstones grinding against each other as they ponderously swiveled.  The net swivels with them until it turns ninety degrees off the ground.  The wisp floats out, its captivating lights still commanding my attention.  My limbs lock up again; I can't move.

 

 

"You thought you could catch me?" it asks, floating closer, "What then?"

 

I can't move my mouth to speak.  I consider this a blessing in disguise as I don't know how I'd answer if I was able to.  I had a plan, I was certain of it, but the river of lights flowing through my mind made it so hard to find.

 

"You had no idea what you were going to do with me once you caught me, did you?"  A white gush of light flows out of the wisp and warps and wrinkles in midair until it forms a hand.  The creature reaches forward and strokes down my cheek, its touch smooth and pleasant.  It grabs my head below my chin, tilting and turning my head appraisingly.  "I have some ideas about what to do with you though."

 

A twinge of worry passes through my mind before being obliterated by the light.  My passive mind waits for more of its words, all other thoughts having fled before its beautiful light.  All other thoughts except:

 

 

"I'll admit I've always been curious about humans," its voice purrs.  The light warps and twists again as it begins to consolidate into a human form.  It is vaguely feminine albeit made entirely of smooth, white light.  It takes me a minute to realize its based on my own body, a glowing mirror of pulsating energy.

 

"I generally take my pleasure in avoiding your sort, but you were so insistent on meeting me.  I suppose I should be flattered," One of her hands twirls through my hair, a dull ebb of pleasure flowing though my mind as she does so, "I've never had a human pet before, but the one other spirit I know who has one says she loves how soft and warm they are.  That, and how easy they are to tame."

 

Her flawless face, a superficial mirror of my own, lowers itself down to my level.  Where her eyes should be is a void of pure, white light.  I helplessly stare into them, feeling my mind eagerly surge forward towards its annihilation.  The only thought that remains throbs through my head with every heartbeat.

 

 

"That's right little human just keep looking at my light.  Let it lead your thoughts away, deeper and deeper into brightness.  It feels good to go into the light, so pleasurable to follow me in mind, body, and soul," A crackling moan pours from my throat as I hear the truths she's speaking into my ear.  My body feels electric, quivering with ecstatic energy, "Very, very good pet.  Because that's what you are now; you are my good little pet.  You love to please your owner.  Being a good little pet makes you feel so pleasurable."

 

 

"I'm going to touch you on your head pet, and when I do you'll find that you can move again.  Once you can move, you're going to follow my light to your new home," Her instructions found no resistance from my overexposed mind, "As you follow my light you'll feel a blissful elation at your new situation.  Each step you take physically will be mirrored by a step mentally, your thoughts learning to follow every twist and turn of my brightness just as well as your body."

 

 

"You love to follow my light.  You are powerless in its presence.  You love to feel its caring glow.  You love to obey my words.  You are powerless upon hearing my commands.  You love my soothing voice."

 

 

"You are my cherished pet.  You came here seeking me.  You wanted to have me.  You have me now, as an owner.  You spent so many nights following my light; it feels so good to keep doing so.  Rise and follow my precious pet."

 

Her hand taps my forehead with two fingers and sensation flows back through my body.  I stagger to my feet, eyes fixed on my new owner's beautiful brilliance.  She swirls and dissolves back into a cloud of light, bouncing her way slowly through the air away from me.  I shamble forward after her, knowing that this is my purpose in life. 

 

I had always followed her lights across the bog at night; I had followed them for so many years.  It was the thing I loved most in life, an obsession.  Now I was finally able to follow her light constantly.  It swims through my vision and my mind, guiding me forever.  I am a follower of lights and she is my leader.  I am a thrall to her whirls of radiance and she is my master.  I am her powerless pleasing pleasure pet and she is my brilliant owner.

 

I follow her automatically through the slumbering swamp, my mind and body yearning for her pulsing touch again.  I feel my eyes making miniscule motions to mirror the pulsing rhythm of her movements, each contraction of the pupil sending a tingle down my spine.  She leads me to a tree, ancient and harrowing; her light swimming along it like cracks through the air.  The space before me rips open and she flows inside.  With a blissful mindlessness I follow her inside.