Fire singed the edge of my fingertips. As I moved them, the flames curled around my fingers, and twirled up my arm. When the flames had completely engulfed both of my arms, I shoved them down, in the motion of a birds' wings. I moved upward slightly, with my toes lifting from the floor. I moved my arms up and down, over and over, and lifted myself higher and higher into the air. My head brushes the ceiling, and I slowly lowered myself down again, before I set the ceiling on fire.

My fingertip moved in a circle on the paper. Where I touched, the paper burned. It wasn't long before the paper, and all papers in my house, was merely a pile of ashes. "Sheila! Stop setting things on fire! You'll burn the house down!" My anger at being called Sheila instead of Vusa set my whole body aflame. "It's VUSA!" I had to calm myself down from anger to depression before the flames in the room would put themselves out. I sat on the floor, and a spiral of ice spread from where I sat.