The Fire

               

  

   Heat surrounded her body, engulfing every bit of cold left on her skin. She no longer felt the bitter cold rain attacking her. She could only hear it stabbing all the windows around her. She heard the thunder's loud rumbling and felt it shake the house.  Lightning cracked across the sky, beaming a bright white light throughout the living room. But the lightning wasn't the only thing lighting up the night sky.

  

   The house burned loudly, despite the storm just outside. It had to burn. The woman stood still and watched as the flames moved across the house, dancing in the air from one room to the next.  They wrapped around her curves and caressed her sweaty skin. The flames couldn't hurt her. She stood right in the middle of the chaos she had started. And she wasn't going to leave.

  

   Upstairs she heard the loud screams of another woman and a man desperate to escape their deadly home. They were running frantically to the window at the end of the hallway. The wife clumsily trips over her own feet and falls face first onto the floor trying to keep up with her husband, who was much faster than her. She can hardly breathe with the thick smoke rushing into her lungs. She tries to pick herself up as her husband rushes to the window, their safety. But before the wife can stumble to her feet, the husband sees HER. The mysterious woman who had started this whole damn thing was standing right in front of him.

  

   "WITCH!! YOU DID THIS!" The husband pointed a long, shaky finger in the witch's face. Her eyes squinted in anger. Brightening from a dark green to a golden copper yellow. She held her hands out and wrapped them around the man's head. The wife was cowering in a corner, screaming as the flames took her. As she wailed in the distance, the witch let out a loud yell, her hands gripping the man's skull tight. He started losing all of his sight as the warm blood ran out of his eyes and down into his mouth.

"Please. I'm sorry." The man tried to beg the witch. His nose started bleeding, and his skin started to crack open. The witch's hands were covered in the bloody mess she was making. And she loved it. She didn't care to give him mercy. Her son was gone. 

"I'm done listening to your pathetic apologies." All of a sudden, the man's head exploded and spattered onto the witch and the walls all around her. His heavy body slammed to the floor and started to burn. The witch looked to the corner where she no longer heard the loud wails of the wife. She was dead. Burned alive. The witch smiled as she walked to the stairs. She was covered in the man's brains; his blood running down her cheek to her lips. She licked the hot blood off her upper lip and tasted the sweet revenge as she sauntered out of the front door.

  

Author's Note

This is something I am thinking about turning into a book. Should I ? Or should I keep it a short story?

Reviews

[claire]

I think a book would be good! It would be awesome to get more background on the characters and what is happening in the story. One thing you might want to change, however, is ensuring that your tense is consistent. It seems to be in the past tense at the beginning (with the "heard") and then switches to present, and then back to past again.

[Hazelhippie]

Thank you! I'm really glad you pointed that out, I honestly didn't even realize I was doing it.