American Arson

Prologue

In the dead of night, a man dressed in black jeans and a black hoodie approached a small home. He approached ever so slightly and delicately, making sure he wouldn't be spotted. The man wielded a Molotov Cocktail in each hand. A lighter sat in his back pocket, like a bomb waiting for the clock to start ticking. The man went around to the left side of the house. He stared into a window that indicated a bedroom.

There lay a married couple, fast asleep in their small home. The man, however, knew this couple. He knew them very well, perhaps too well. He watched their every move for the past three days, and finally he had them right where he wanted them. In a room close by, their nine-year-old daughter was sleeping. He put one of the bottles down, and reached into his back pocket. He took out a lighter, and began to open the unlocked window.

He climbed in only about halfway, and sat on the windowsill. He had his lighter in his right hand, and a Molotov Cocktail in the other. Quietly, he pulled down on the lighter. The flame ignited. A rush of adrenaline went through him. Slowly, the lighter approached the cloth on the end of the bottle. He held the flame close, and the fabric ignited. He stared at the couple in the bed, grinning.

As if he was a Major League Baseball player, he threw the bottle as hard as he could. It shattered just beside the couples bed, igniting a large fire. The curtains glowed with red as the man climbed out of the window, closing it shut. He didn't have time to see them burn, or see the room become engulfed or flames. Their screams were enough for him. Quickly, he ran to the front door. It was unlocked, for nobody locked their doors in the quiet town of Milton's Gap, Tennessee. He eased it open, and he lit the other cloth. Then, he threw the bottle in. The room ignited, and he closed the front door, locking it behind him.

He dashed across the front yard, and hid in the woods. He wanted to watch his lifelong enemies burn, as if Satan himself were dwelling among them. Burn they did, and the entire house was soon engulfed in flames. Frantically, neighbors ran to help them. It was too late, though. The couple was already burning when he made it to the front door. The daughter was too scared to do anything, so she burned alive like a cookie in the oven.

Like a cookie in the oven.

Then came the firefighters, and the policemen, and the ambulances. They all gathered around. The police spread police tape, and the firefighters worked on the blaze. Neighbors gathered around, softly crying. They had seen nobody come out of the house, and feared the worst. What they didn't know was, the man came out of the house just a few minutes earlier.

The man decided he had seen enough. He left the woods, and made his way down the road. A few minutes later, he arrived at a small gas station. He hopped in his car, which sat in the parking lot. He looked out the window, still able to see the yellow, orange, and red flames burning the house to the foundation. Police cars continued to pass him, and he sat in his car for around ten minutes. When he saw the coroner pass by, he determined that he had stayed long enough. He turned the keys in the ignition, and drove off.

He passed more police cars down the road. He tried to imagine what it looked like inside the house. He wanted to see their bodies, and see the house. So, the man whipped the car around and sped back towards the scene. Minutes passed, and soon he reached the gas station. He kept going, and pulled over at the house.

The flames were extinguished, but the house was no more. The police tape separated the grieving crowd from the crime scene. The man walked over to the tape, and joined the crowd. He looked out across the yard, where he saw the coroner bagging a body. It was a small body. Perhaps that of a nine-year-old girl. Yes, it was his work. He had succeeded, and nobody suspected a thing.

It looked like an accident, and he wanted it to stay that way. He saw the coroner bag the wife, and then the husband.

The small town of Milton's Gap had never seen something like this before. Nothing ever happened here. Nobody ever died here. Now, they were getting a taste of reality. It came like a punch in the stomach, and shocked everybody. He looked at the house, expressionless. He had accomplished something that he wanted to do long ago.

Now, there were three dead. The fire made national news. Nobody ever thought it could happen here, but it did. Three people were just murdered, but nobody knew it. Nobody expected anything. The idea of a murder in Milton's Gap was almost radical. It was a peaceful town, full of kind people. At least, that is what everybody thought.

The fire was in that week's newspaper. Everybody in the town knew all about it. Days passed, and funerals were planned. The community mourned the deaths of the family. All but one was mourning, but nobody knew it. Nobody knew anything, except for the man. The man wore onlyblack, but his art was always red. His art was always dangerous, and his art was always violent. He called it his "Art", for that is how he saw his actions.

He thought back on his days as a child. He remembered the day he burned some of his toys. The day he used a match for the first time. The day he burned a bench outside of his school. Over the years, a murderer was slowly being formed. A psychopath, a serial killer, a lunatic. One may call him whatever they want to, but he calls himself an artist.

His art was his unique way of killing his victims. He always used a Molotov Cocktail, but each fire would bring new methods. He found new ways to take advantage of the weapon he wielded. He was insane, and he was dangerous. The only thing that made him more dangerous was the fact that nobody knew about him yet. The young child who was once expelled for burning a school bench, was now becoming a psychopathic serial killer. Among law enforcement, he would become known as the Molotov Killer.

He had just started two fires. His first fire, burned down a home. It burned a little girl, and it burned a married couple. The second fire was still burning. It had just begun to burn. He had just started a series of terrible, awful attacks on the people of Milton's Gap. He wasn't done yet. He just sparked the fire for the biggest criminal investigation his region has ever seen. Nothing was over yet, it was only beginning. What followed would rip the town at its seams, and leave burn marks on the entire community.

Then came the funeral, just a week after they died. Sitting at the front were the ashes of the three he had killed. The family and friends softly cried. The community was in shock, and nobody could save them.

Sitting in the back was the man, dressed in all black.