The Girl with the Fire Heart

Do you remember as a child, all the fairytale stories you would read and hear about? They were always about princesses and princes, heroes and villains. This is not that story.

There once was a girl who lived in a special kingdom. All the people in this kingdom were not born with hearts made of blood. Instead, they were born with hearts made of elements and stones, materials commonly found and some too difficult to discover. The Royal Family were all born with hearts made of purified gold. Others were born with hearts of silver and bronze, wood and metal. Others were born with hearts made of gems and crystals.

The way this was identified was by a pin that they wore over their heart to determine what kind of heart lay inside their chest.

But this girl, her heart was rare. Her heart was one of a kind. Her heart was made of fire. Never, in all of this kingdom, had there ever been a girl whose heart was made of an element that could not be easily harnessed. Instead of a pin, she wore a necklace. It was designed to contain some of the fire that was in her heart, a warning to all the people that she came across to not get too close.

Now I know what you’re thinking. This girl was the princess, a rarity in the royal household. But you couldn’t be more wrong.

This girl was a shepherd’s daughter. Some would say she was the fairest in all the land, more beautiful than even the princesses in the palace. Some would say she was average, too sure that there were people in the surrounding kingdoms that were more beautiful than her. But everyone was scared of what her heart was made of, scared of how that fire could burn them all.

When the shepherd’s daughter was a little girl, she would often be overcome with emotion and the blaze in her necklace would burn so bright, the other little kids would scream and point forcing the village teachers to drag the shepherd’s daughter away. They would force her into solitude, too scared that they would reap the disasters of her blazing fire.

So the shepherd’s daughter learned to keep her emotions in check, therefore, keeping the fire in her heart managed and contained. She never let the fire go out of control.

All in all, this seems like a good thing. And in some cases it was. But the other villagers’ fear of what they could not understand led her to withhold the fire that could have helped the whole kingdom. In the winter months, the only home that was able to stay warm was the home of the shepherd and his family. The shepherd’s daughter would allow her fire to burn enough to keep the family safe from the harsh brutality of the cold weather.

All the other homes in the kingdom, including the palace, were forced to have an abundance of quilts and blankets, were forced to layer their clothing, never truly finding the warmth that mirrored the summer months.

As the shepherd’s daughter grew older and the other village boys began to see what a beautiful girl she was becoming, they would often gather around in the outskirts of her family’s farm and watch her. They would challenge each other and dare each other to approach her, to attempt to court her.

The shepherd’s daughter knew the boys would watch her work. She knew they were too scared to approach her, so oftentimes, she would simply ignore them. The few village girls that weren’t scared of her, that embraced what her heart was made of, would come over and help her tend to the fields and animals, singing softly to drown out the voices of the village boys watching in the distance.

Not long after the shepherd's daughter's sixteenth birthday, a young boy whose heart is made of birch wood, finally approaches her. His pin is beautiful, made of the same material that his heart was made of. It has his family crest carved into it and is carefully sewn into his shirt.

He has a dopey smile. Something that the shepherd’s daughter had first thought was quirky and cute. He often ways to smooth-talk her and make her feel special. The only problem is that the village boy whose heart is made of wood only visits after the market has closed and the sun is setting.

The months go by with him courting her in secret, waiting until all the other village boys were traveling home and settling in for supper with their families. One day, the shepherd’s daughter finally asks the boy why he always visits so late. He never comes in to eat dinner with her family, but he is never home in time to eat dinner with his own family.

He explains to her that it is because his family is always traveling, looking for a husband for his sister. He explains the reason he never has dinner with her family is because he doesn't want to impose. The shepherd’s daughter believes his explanations, offers her apologies for his loneliness and offers to bring him dinner early so that he doesn't go hungry.

He shakes her off, telling her that isn't necessary. But the shepherd’s daughter is adamant. She likes this boy. He has been kind to her, treating her normally unlike the other village boys. But the boy keeps refusing. Slowly, the shepherd’s daughter’s heart of flames begin to grow.

The boy looks at the flames in her necklace and begins to inch away from her. But the shepherd’s daughter doesn't notice. She only wants to keep the boy close, and hopes her feelings for him aren't one-sided. By the time she notices that he isn't paying attention to her, but rather his eyes are focused on her necklace, it is too late. The boy turns and runs away from her, shouting behind him that he never wants to speak to her again.

The shepherd’s daughter runs home, tears streaming down her face. But the fire in her necklace, a representation of what her heart is made of, has not died out. Rather, the fire in her heart burns brighter. The shepherd’s daughter makes it home and runs through her house straight to her room.