Story
Tell this slowly, moving the Fire pieces upward as the story unfolds:
Once there was a little spark sleeping inside a dark piece of wood. It was very small, smaller than a seed, but it held a golden secret.
One cold morning, the family gathered near the hearth. The room was gray. The hands were chilly. The soup pot waited. The candle waited. The little spark waited too.
Then came careful hands.
A match was struck. A tiny flame opened its eye.
The flame touched the kindling, and the kindling began to glow. The little spark woke up. It stretched into orange. It reached into gold. It danced, but it did not run away, because the hearth held it safely.
Soon the room was warm. The soup began to steam. The candle shone on the table. The child held out both hands and felt the quiet gift.
Fire said, I bring warmth. I bring light. I help food become ready. I help darkness step back.
But Fire also whispered, I must be respected. I must be tended. I belong with careful hands.
When the work was finished, the flame grew smaller. It bowed low, became ember, became ash, and rested.
Fire warms. Fire shines. Fire changes. Fire must be cared for.