Faheem stirred the campfire, then flicked the Zippo open while glowing motes drifted towards the stars.
Tiny Rasul appeared as the lighter’s flame.
“Go,” Faheem said. “You’re free… join them.”
The ifrit faced spiraling embers, and a fire sprite took his hand with a curtsy. Smiling, he joined their dance.
Text is Copyright © 2018 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
Aethereal Engineer 
Nice! It probly felt good to get out of that lighter :)
LikeLiked by 1 person
“10,000 years in a lighter can put such a crick in your neck! Oy!” ;-)
Thank you, glad you enjoyed. :-)
LikeLike
:)
LikeLike
I love your imagination. :-)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Diana, that’s a great compliment coming from one as imaginative as yourself. :-)
LikeLiked by 1 person
:-D
LikeLiked by 1 person