Fire Starter

I didn't think that it would matter. You know it was an empty barn and no one used it. I had a bad day and needed to let off some steam. What better way than to start a fire. 1

I love starting fires. Call me a pyro and psychotic all you want. But there is something comforting and exhilarating about flames and the heat they give off. Oh, it felt so good to strike that match. I don't think I even let it drop. I just stood there picturing the gables and hay being engulfed in the gold and red tresses. I could feel the heat as i always do. The power that surges through me at the knowledge that from one small spark a forest fire could rage. Then it happened. The little flames literally leaped off my match and danced over the pieces of straw on the ground. Like a game of dominoes, the fire spread gradually. I was so happy when my dream became a reality! It was truly beautiful. The bales and wooden structures were all dressed in orange scarves. It was a fire party and I was the guest of honor.2

There was barely any smoke in the barn when the fire had reached its high point. The floor was dirt so I was safe to just sit and watch the spectacle around me. It was a sanctuary and I was like a priestess. I wanted to honor the Great fire Goddess. the sweet fumes lulled me into a sort of trance. the Barn was burning more ferociously then and beginning to lose its strength but I didn't want to leave. Then a fiery beam fell right beside me. Time to go! It was so short lived as always. I calmly walked out of the double doors and closed the outside latch. 3

No one even took notice to its magnificence. I was the only one in this whole town who could understand this beauty. I felt sad when it began to rain, ruining my fun. I wouldn't leave the smoldering barn on its own. I would stay and mourn for each and every lick of flame that was killed by the rain drops. And so I sat outside for about another hour. Just waiting and crying for the last little flash of life that wassnuffed by the increasing rain. Sometimes I wish that i could always snap my fingers and have a piece of fire with me.4

the black watch on my wrist told me that, one it was still water proof and to that it was time to go home. My parents would be waiting for me with smiles and glee. Even if I told them about my escapade they would pay no mind. They wouldn't be angry, call the police, or even care. I was Scot free as always. No one care about my newest masterpiece. No crowds or paparazzi would snap photos and ask for my autograph. Sigh, sometimes I wish that a wandering traveler or fireman would at least scold me.5

I looked up and down the road to town. No one came speeding in the direction of my destroyed work of art. They were all too busy doing other stuff. I guess it's always going to be the same. But as I took one lasting look on the vanished barn, I hoped not.