Flames & Firehoses (Arsonist X Firefighter)

Chapter 1

Featured artist: Martanael on Instagram
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Orange, roaring flames consumed the white, two-story Victorian house, dancing around it and licking the window frames and shutters. I stood in the back of the crowd, around the home's picket fence, with an expression of bewilderment and sorrow on my face...despite my internal feelings. It was remarkable and hypnotic - my masterpiece! I fingered the lighter in my pocket with excitement.

To the left of me, a firetruck pulled to the curb and five men in yellow, protective suits and masks rushed out. I sighed. Shouting frantically, the firefighters hooked a thick, heavy hose to a nearby hydrant. They tried to ascertain if anyone was inside.

I chuckled. "I may be an arsonist, but I'm not a complete psycho! What kind of person would I be if l lit the house on fire, knowing there were people home?! That would take all the fun out of it!"

I watched for a few more minutes as the firemen positioned the hose towards the building and began dousing it in water. I felt like a child watching the waves destroy a sandcastle I had spent all day building! The fire protested their advances, hissing and spitting hot embers out onto the lawn. I couldn't help but smile encouragingly. If anyone had seen me, they would have assumed I was happy that the first responders were extinguishing the flames.

I turned away and walked back to my car slowly, breathing the smoky air in with pleasure. My navy Mitsubishi Eclipse was waiting for me on the other side of the street, masked in darkness. I unlocked the doors and dropped in.

I watched the house from afar, as I lit a cigarette and puffed out a ring of smoke. Checking my surroundings carefully, I started the engine and drove away. The streetlights' dim glow moved rhythmically over me, as I careened down the roads, flooring the gas pedal to match the adrenaline rush I felt. I pulled into the parking lot at my apartment complex and skipped up the steps to the second floor of my building, keys in hand.

Darkness and silence greeted me. It was relaxing and peaceful - my safe haven! I flipped the light switch in the kitchen and pulled a beer out of the fridge. Something as masterful as that fire deserved a proper celebration or, at least, a toast! I threw myself into the chocolate-colored, suede couch in the living room and lit another cigarette, while I fished the T.V. remote out from under the coffee table with my big toe.

The local news showed a brief video of the house burning; then, changed to the faces of the owners, mourning their possessions, to a breakdown of how firefighters thought the incident started. I was always very careful not to leave any clues that would cause them to suspect anybody; but, watched the news regularly, as well, in case I accidentally slipped up. One could never be too careful! It was, also, an excuse to catch another, fleeting surge of pride and ecstasy in the face of such disastrous beauty as the one I started with a single match!

I chugged my first beer and immediately grabbed a second. This late into the night, I wouldn't need much more to knock me out, after the long day I'd had! Eight hours of work as a secretary for a douchebag was worth it for a few hours of playing with fire - literally - and coming home for a full night of blissful sleep. This was the perfect hobby and cheap too - $1.99 for the lighter and a free adrenaline rush for the next few days to boot!

The beers lulled me into a haze. I stamped out my cigarette: No way was I burning myself alive by dropping it on the carpet when I fell asleep! Now, that would be ironic!

I crashed on the couch, not even bothering to go to bed. It was Friday night and I didn't have to work tomorrow. I set my phone on the charger by the table and turned it off. Stretching out on the couch, I lazily yawned and fell asleep.