The House that Burned

A Silence so Deafening

"Does this mean you didn't read about how when you burnt down my house you failed to realise I was inside? I nearly died! I hardly crawled away. But now I'm wishing I had stayed. Then you would still be in jail now. I can't believe I defended you, by not telling the police I was there. Did you honestly want me to die because of a few worthless statues?!"

She was screaming at the top of her voice now, but with good reason. Freida was right. I hadn't known that she was home. And I didn't want her to be killed.

"When you came into my bookstore, it was like striking gold. You clearly didn't recognise me when I first came over, so I left you to it. I never thought I would have the opportunity to fulfil my fantasises but here I am. You have taken my house, my job, and my reputation. Now I can take your life."

Realising what she was about to do my brain went into panic mode, thinking desperately of any way to stop her. But I was tied with my hands behind my back, in complete darkness with nobody around to save me.

Never had I ever experienced a silence so deafening. Inside, I was trembling, but outside I kept stable and strong. It wasn't possible for me to feel guilt or regret. I was superhuman, incapable of stooping down to such emotions. The match was her weapon of choice, so innocent until licked with flames, and fuelled with revenge. With a slow drag of her hand, a glow emerged before me. She held the match between two fingers, watching the small flame trickle down the wood toward her hand. The flame grew bigger and bigger, flickering in all directions as it fell onto the wood below me.

The heat was excruciating, scalding my skin, and catching my breath. I grit my teeth in determination. I wasn't in pain. I wasn't.

"The whole fire theme is getting boring, but I would hate to break the tradition so close to your end," Freida said.

Wrapped around the stake I couldn't move. The flames began to rise, kissing my skin. This was how I was going to die, and it was a terrible end. The flames were at my waist now. This was when the book told me I was going to fall unconscious, although that was before I learned that it was all a made-up lie, only now being made the truth. I felt the book on my waist where I had wedged it into my jeans. I wriggled as much as I can, trying to get it to fall away into the fire beneath me. Even the thought of it made me disgusted, and I needed it off my body. I shifted as much as I could, feeling it slowly rise upwards. Freida was watching me the whole time with sharp, narrowed eyes. This was my bit of defiance. This was me saying if I was going to burn, she was going to get hurt by the flames.

With one last shift, the book rose over my waistband and fell into the heat below, burning right before me, and sending a blast of cool air rushing over my skin.