Yes, I did set rocks on fire.
Confession time: I have a talent with two things.
Sharpening kives to a nightmare edge and fire.
The rock was begging for it, it was a huge boulder.
And it was less than seven foot from the house.
Did I mention it was a quartzitic granite with sulfur chaser?
Lit it up, melted about two inches off the surface and freaked out the neighbors.
Years later I was camping.
Dad was about a quarter mile away, at night, and noticed he had a shadow.
Since humans don’t normally cast flickery wavy shadows at night he deduced that something was odd about this.
So he turned around and saw the PILLAR OF FIRE.
[This one was lame, it wasn’t a cloud by day. Drats.]
Dad came rushing back to teh campsite to find me tending this two foot wide abomination of flame and heat.
And site security was standing there getting fire pointers from yours truly as they were amazed and mystified with my talent to stack wood that should by rightsonly produce a three foot flame and instead produce a thirty foot column of OMG.
Dad yelled at me, site security coughed and said ‘Oh yeah, by the way..’
So I flipped one single log down, the fire dropped to a sedate foot and a half tall, and security crapped their knickers.
Although I feel pressed to pose the inquiry, "Where were you with your boulder-taming abilities, when I was careening down those slippery roads with the oil-pan-gouging boulders sticking up on the mountainous roads of the White Mountain Apache res?" I can't really hold it against you. Nevahmind.