The soul that yearns for FIRE

A story of a normal girl, who loves fire.

I sit on a bench in school, scratching the cover of my notebook with a pen, until the cover breaks. My so-called-friends are babbling around me, horrified about yesterday's arsenic. No one, even the police, can find a suspect. No one even dares to suspect the quiet Anastasia, who is the top student of her class. All they know is that this wasn't the first, nor the last time this happened. Zoe starts braiding my hair while she goes on and on about the news, at the same time wondering the magical red, glowing color of my hair. At last the teacher gets in the class, and everyone goes to their seats. While others focus all their mind to studying, I start to plan what I would burn down next. I can't wait, to get to stare at the lovely fires that I create.

Why, you ask? Hmm.. You think you know the reason to my behavior? Maybe I'm anxious, and things at home aren't going well. Yes, and maybe my mother is a drug-addict, my father's an alcoholic, and I haven't gotten enough love. Or perhaps it's a revenge. Maybe the houses I burn are houses of those who have hurt me. Or then I just have mental problems. Can you come up with something else?

I walk past the charchoaled house, the house that they once again could not save. I'm starting to be good. From the ashes there is already small plant making it's way towards the sky, ready to take over the area that was once it's. This is the best to me, seeing how nature survives and takes back what it owns. The nature survives, even if the entire man-made world would destroy and humankind perish.

After a few days I admire the flames I made, once again. Oh how nicely it warms up my face. My eyes, black as charcoal, admire the dance of the flames, the dance that my soul screams to be a part of. I can already hear the firetruck form far, so I pick up my jerrycan, pull my hood to cover my face better, and start walking away. When will they learn, that the water doesn't help anymore? That they can't stop my, and sure as hell they can't capture me. I squeeze the silver cross on my neck, the only thing I have left from my possible drug-addict mother.

At school they lecture us for a good while, that if we found out the person responsible from the fires, we have to announce it immediately. No one says anything, and it's hard for me to not to smile. Zoe is brushing my hair, complaining that it's getting dangerous here, the pyromaniac needs to be caught. She makes me want to laugh. Hah! You'll never catch me..

Well, did you come up with the reason yet? Revenge? Hate? Love? Or something completely different? You can stop guessing. The option of my reason being in normal problems isn't there. You could never understand me.

The whole small town I live in is a mess. The police had tightened security, people are buying fire alarms, the streets are empty in the evenings and they keep installing security cameras and bright light to yards. But abandoned houses, no one cares about then, no one protects them. And that's all fine with me, I have never even wanted to destroy a house where someone lives in. Only abandoned houses are good enough for me.

I have guided Zoe's doubt to upper classers, she's too attached to me, she could some day smell the gas and start suspecting things. I don't like Zoe, she's too gullible. If the suspects and evidence would get too strong, I'll move away, disappear and no one will ever find me. I have no plans to get caught.

With the next house I'll have to wait a few weeks, so people will calm down even a little. After a while they think that the arsonist got scared and left the town, no one knows to expect that soon there would be yet another house on fire.

I jump over a rusty fence, and with a few steps I'm at the door. The lock has already become brittle enough for me to beak it open. This sure was easy... For a moment I look at the big, molded, stuffy and dirty lobby, and start throwing gasoline from my jerrycan to the wooden walls. I step outside, and admire the so far intact house. I scratch the mach to the side of the box, sparkles fly in the air and the fire ignites with a sigh, like it would be pleased with it. Oh how I loved that smell, that sweet sent of fire and burning wood.

Why? Because I like this, I enjoy this enormously. There is no other reason. My parents love me, we're one happy family. I'm not hungry for revenge, and I am mentally healthy, even thoug you might disagree with me on that one. The heath and dance of fire calm my mind, my burning soul. To make it simple, this makes me feel good.

I admire the flames, slightly smiling. I don't need anyone or anything, when I can dance with the fire. Then something goes wrong. Once the fire reaches the top floor, from under them I can hear a high, painful scream, someone is inside the house...! My blood freezes, I can't move an inch. All the pleasure I had is gone, what's going on? There wasn't supposed to be anyone here. Why is there someone in an abandoned building?! I can feel the blood running away from my face. The sirens get closer, but I can't move, my feet won't move, I can't escape.

© 2015 Strawberry Evil

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LastMonth

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmh.

The Fire is indeed captivating.
And you presented it well enough, the descriptions feel vivid.
The character is mostly understandble, why she is so infatuated with fire.

One thing that does bother me is that your POV character seems a bit, hyper aware.
She -know- exactly what she is suffering from, and seems reletivly fine about it.

But that does not have to be a bad thing, perhaps she just 'thinks' she knows what she's dealing with. You do feed her a dose of her own brewing in the last paragraph where things turn sour.

I somewhat feel as though we could benefit from hearing about her fire obession more, most likely I'd enjoy seeing her first time meeting fire.

Nice story overall, keep up the good work.