Authentic

Time to write!

Quote: "Authentic writing is rarely prompt-driven."

Well how awkward is that? So much for a prompt of the day (even though I will sure get a prompt tomorrow), today we are going to play with a preexisting idea from my mind. Don't steal it please.

Coralee's body was bent, shielding the match she held, the only light detectable in the dark warehouse. She carefully touched the quickly expiring match to the thick fuse, then watched as the light traveled rapidly down the fuse, towards the bundle of high-end explosives Pyro had set up for her.

Standing and turning towards the entrance, Coralee began walking out of the old building, aware that the explosives would be going off any second. This wasn't the thought that held her mind at the moment though. No, instead she wondered why Pyro wouldn't tell anyone his real name, or where he lived. He certainly was mysterious, but that wasn't uncommon on the streets of New Griffield.

Then Coralee was flying through the air, huge pieces of metal and wood hurtling past her cheeks. The blast hurt Coralee's ears, and she felt warmer than she had a moment before, and could smell her thin tee shirt burning, but  that's all it was. Within a few seconds, she'd landed back on the ground and was back on her feet. Her black converse moved through the rubble quickly, and soon she was blocks away from the blast site, and there was nothing left there to link her to that location.

***

Arriving on the fourth level of the underground parking garage under Warman's Department Store, Coralee could make out the faces of Jarren and Tam.
"How'd it go?" Tam asked, concern clear in his voice.
Jarren laughed. "Well enough, obviously," he said, his voice much lower than Tam's. "I mean, she's back isn't she?"
Coralee smiled slightly. "Pretty much," she agreed. "It went as planned."
Jarren nodded. "So Pyro delivered?"
"Doesn't he normally?" Coralee responded, walking to the corner, and turning her back to the two boys. She peeled off her tee shirt, and replaced it with a new one, aware of their eyes on her back.
"Doesn't it hurt you?" Tam asked quietly.
Coralee suppressed a sigh. Tam was always worried about her on these missions, whereas Jarren seemed completely at ease with the risk.
"Does what hurt, Tam?" Coralee said.
"Being in those explosions. The burns." Tam answered.
Coralee's back had felt a bit tender, no doubt the skin had been red and blistered where her tee shirt had left her skin exposed, but even know she could feel the tingling sensation that meant her skin was healing.
Jarren nudged Tam, a teasing smile on his face. "How many times are you going to ask her Tam? Don't you believe her by now? She can't die, Tam. Quit your worrying."
Tam just shook his head, unwilling to accept what Coralee had told them upon first meeting them, three years ago, in the exact parking garage where they all now sat on abandoned pieces of furniture and shipping crates.
"It just feels warm," Coralee said gently to Tam, wishing he'd stop fretting.
The truth was, it scared her as much as it did Tam. Coralee knew she should've died that night. She should've died a thousand times before that night. But for some reason, Coralee seemed to be indestructible.

Because this is my first attempt at beginning a story that's actually been playing in my head for quite some time now, if you've feedback, I'd love to hear it!