It was raining ash as Lysander walked slowly down the corridor. His footprints left behind smoking prints. His young eyes took in destruction around him; destruction he caused. He passed room after blazing room where the other kids slept, some rooms filled with screams of terrified children. But, he didn't stop to help them.
Instead, he let them burn; their previous actions against him being returned at last. Their shrieks and cries and whimpers were a beautiful symphony to his ears. Their pain brought a smile to his lips; a grin so twisted, it didn't belong on the face of a five year old.
Lysander stepped around the corner, when people in snow-white lab coats were frantically running around, trying to find a way to stop him. As if they could. There was no stopping him. He was untouchable, a living, breathing flame ready to burn everything in his path.
A woman had a syringe in her hand, filled with a glowing, purple liquid. A beautiful lilac purple that tugged at his heart with fear. The woman, her intentions clear, was incinerated where she stood. She didn't even have time to scream.
Lysander began walking again, each doctor and scientist in a lab coat burning when he passed them. The labs they were running into and out of were set ablaze, boiling that glowing lilac liquid inside their metal cells.
He was almost there! Just a couple more corridors to go, and then he'd be free. Free from the people who experimented on him, free from the people who injected him with that vile lilac liquid, free from the children who tormented. Yes, soon he was going to be free! He could almost taste it!
Nothing stood in his way as he waked to the main door. The door was difficult to open, so he melted the steel and stepped through.
There was snow, everywhere. A harsh wind blew snow against his small body and a deep chill settled over him like a second skin. His feet turned blue and his nose went numb. The fire in his core dimmed and sputtered.
Does he go back inside where it's warm? Or, does he keep moving forward, fighting the cold? He wasn't sure of what to do, so he stood there, body shutting down from the subzero temperature. Frost slowly crawled over his flesh, paving the way for the ice behind it.
If he didn't move, he would freeze to death. But, his body had given up, and the flame had been extinguished. Tears pricked his eyes, but they froze too, stinging his eyes and bringing more tears.
The frost almost reached his heart, the ice millimeters behind it. So, he stopped. Stopped trying to reignite the flame, stopped trying to get his feet to move, stopped trying to survive.
He had done what he dreamed of doing, so there was no need to go on. And, with that final thought in mind, he closed his eyes, and let Death wrap his cruel hands around him.
There, in the snow, Lysander died, and was sent to Hell for his crimes.
Enjoy!
~ Rydan J.
