This is a story.
It is not a boring story, in my opinion, but then again, I am biased, for I am not only writing it, but I lived it.
This is not simply A story.
This is MY story.

And I would love it if you would sit and listen to it for a little while. I will try not to take up much of your time, for I know it is a valuable thing, especially nowadays, where we seem to take for granted how much of it we really have. But I digress; and my time grows shorter still, therefore I shall begin.

My story does not take start, as other stories often do, in some fantastical imaginary time and place that seems as if it belongs in a children's book. No, my story starts in a nice neighborhood in a house that blends in well with everything around it, and is not too small, nor is it too big. It is just right, in fact. Perfect, even. Or so it would seem. Its owners who resided there were perfect; a nice house, two kids, a boy and a girl, a cat, a dog, a goldfish or two, a nice car in the driveway, a happy marriage.

I did not live in this house. But this is however, where the story takes place. These people, you see, these wonderful, loving people who went to church every Sunday and spent their weekends camping and picnicking, they were friends of mine. Well, I would like to think of them as friends, at least. They were friends when no one in the neighborhood was looking; they gave me food and clothes, things like that. Or at least, they did. But then tragedy struck, a great tragedy indeed. Their son, he began to fall in love with me. As long as no one in their high society found out about it, they were fine with it. After all, we were the same age, he was a boy, and I was a girl, and that was really all that mattered to them. Until we kissed.

I really don't know what happened; to this day, I still don't. No one really knows, but since that day, nothing has been the same. Not for his family, or for me, or even for the neighborhood. See, when we kissed....It seemed as if all hell broke free from the depths of the earth and exploded out into the open. As soon as our lips touched, he had no chance. He pulled back, screaming, writhing in pain and agony. It was already too late, though, and I was powerless to help him, as was everyone else. He was dead within seconds. No more than thirty of them, I believe is what the medical examiner said. They took the body away, and as they examined him further, they realized that the cause of death was impossible. They found that he had burns over every inch of his body...but only on the INSIDE of it, not on the outside. He had been killed due to his body cooking itself within his own skin.

The family wanted nothing to do with me after that, of course. They had no idea what happened, but though they didn't want to believe it, they knew I had somehow killed their son in an impossible manner. I didn't want to believe it, I was only 19 and I had already ended a life. I found there was no other alternative than leaving, and doing it very quickly at that. By the next day, I was gone, though I come back on the anniversary of his death every year to mourn him, to show him that I cared, that I loved him. He knows, I think....And now here I am. Placing flowers down upon the grave of the man I loved; the man I killed. But I quickly leave. It has only been five years, and I fear someone will recognize me.

I disappear quickly into the shadows of the night, only crying a little. I have never really been able to cry much at all. Now I at least know why, as well as how I killed the first....No, the ONLY man I have ever loved.

Now I know.
I'm not like everyone else.
That's exactly why I was abandoned here all those years ago. I wasn't like anything any member of my race had seen, so they didn't want me, and they knew that they couldn't give me away or anything like that, so they just abandoned me to live in the streets. I've lived, but only just barely...at least I know why now.

I know why I kill anyone that I make lip contact with, and burn any other place I brush with my lips, I know why if I fall, I burn the ground. And it's not just because I'm cursed, though I am. No, I am some sort of strange mutated...being. A being with some sort of fire inside of her, coming out whenever I breath as ringlets of smoke, or as fire if I kiss anyone. I must be. There is no other explanation for these terrible things that happen.

So the only thing I can do now is search. Search night and day for someone who knows more about me than I do. I can only hope that such a person exists, if not for me, for everyone who is unlucky enough to stumble into my path and become close to me. I must find this person who can help me....And my only lead are my memories, yet some of them are stranger even than the terrible things that have happened because of me over the years.

Wish me luck. I'm going to need it.