Standing in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house.
Write a 500 word story using this passage as a starting point. It is due Thursday. It must be free of errors.
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ReplyDeleteStanding in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. It was an accident I promise I didn’t mean to. It was just a dare, a dare! My parents weren’t in the house. They were on their 20th year anniversary and I was supposed to stay home and take care of Puffs, our little dog. Some boys from school came to my house and well they were always mean to me in school, they bullied me all the time by calling me names and shoving me into the lockers. Everyone made fun of me. They were the coolest kids in school and they asked me that if I wanted to be a part of them that I should do whatever they said I had to do. I did so many things they told me to do and they weren’t hard at all, they were just small things that weren’t dangerous. They told me to ring people’s doorbell and run, knock down people’s mailbox without getting caught, then go to the lake behind my house and swim naked in this freezing weather, and then light up a bunch of leaves next to my house and have a bonfire. I was just thirteen I wanted to be cool for the first time and not be the joke of the school. They told me that they did that before and that the fire would turn off in less than ten minutes and I believed them so I did it, but instead the whole house caught on fire and my first reaction was to hide somewhere, I was petrified. The boys ran off laughing at the idea that my house was burning down and gave each other a high-five as if it was part of their plan. The cop then asked me “Why was there gasoline spilled all around the house and on the steps?” with a serious face. I had no idea what he was talking about I just gave him a blank stare and then he asked me again “Were you with those boys the whole time? Did you step out to do something real quick and left them alone?” I then answered, “I ran to the bathroom real quick to dry up after I got out of the lake and to use it but then that was it. I was with them the whole time.” He then asked me to write down the names of the boys that were there and to give out their address, if I knew it. I wrote down three names but I couldn’t remember their address. They made me stay in the room until the next day asking me questions and different people coming in to interview me, but my parents haven’t stepped in once. I believe they were very angry with me. Our house was beautiful it had three floors, beautiful rooms, everything was new, I just don’t know how everything burned. The cop that asked me most of the questions came into the room and told me that those three boys were guilty of spilling the gasoline all around the house. They knew this because their fingerprints were all over and their clothes had gasoline stains on it. They told me that I was also getting in trouble for providing the fire but I wasn’t getting punished like they were. Their parents had to pay for the damages made.
ReplyDeleteI had eventually gone through with it. I had burned my house down to the ground. I hid myself from sight by leaning against a pine tree in the dark woods that ran up to my backyard. Standing in the dark, I watched; it was hard to believe but had to be done.
ReplyDeleteBacktrack a few days to get the full story of why and how this monstrosity happened. My name is Polly and I have a troubled teenage life. My mother committed suicide when I was eight years old due to an abusive husband. I don’t call the guy my mom married dad, even though he is my father. I call him by his first name Jacob. Jacob abused my mother the whole time they were married, which was exactly seven years. Jacob threatened my mom as well. If she wanted to tell someone about her husband, he threatened to break each and every finger and toe, one at a time. When he ran out, he would move on to her arms, then legs. I found out about the abuse when mom had a gash on her left cheek. Jacob smashed a bottle in her face when she refused to buy him a bottle of champagne. The scars and bruises were well hidden, which is why it took me a long time to figure it all out. One day mom couldn’t take it anymore and she hung herself from the banister in the living room. After mom died it was just me and Jacob. He even started to hit me. I was just a kid, not knowing how this torture would affect me or make me feel this way.
Growing up with Jacob around affected my life. Since mom was gone, Jacob wanted a female around. That female was me. He beat me constantly if he had a bad day at work, or if he just wanted to thrill himself. Over the next ten years I was beat. Jacob would cut me, burn me with his cigarettes, punch and kick me, and once when I was eleven he hit me over the head with an empty beer bottle. Growing up, I did not know why I was abused. I did not know who to tell or how to handle it. Like mom I was threatened to not let anyone know that I was hurt.
I was eighteen years old when I finally decided enough is enough. I always thought “I’m now an adult, making my own decisions and won’t have anyone tell me what to do.” I hatched a plan. A plan that changed the way I look at myself in the mirror.
That night, I made Jacob a cup of tea. It’s his favorite beverage to drink at night. I smashed up sleeping pills and dissolved them into the tea. Jacob fell asleep a little while later. I surrounded his bed with gasoline, and made trails all around the house. I found my cat Poptart, picked him up, lit a match and walked out the back door, not even looking back. We stood in the dark woods leaning against a pine tree.
The evil man known as Jacob is finally in the place he belongs. Poptart and I walked through the dark woods disappearing into the night while the house burned. To my surprise, nobody called the fire department yet. Everything was gone. Every memory in that house was burning up, never being seen again. It felt wonderful. I smiled as I walked away, and felt Poptart snuggling in my arms knowing I will not let him go.
Standing in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from the view, leaning against one of the pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. I didn’t realize what I had just done. My whole family was inside the house, and they didn’t have enough time to get out. I was sitting there covering up my face with tears, realizing that my family just died in a fire because of me. So many thoughts running through my head. Thinking if I should go run into the house to die with the family or not. I’m sitting on the floor panicking. Breathing heavy while holding my ears and closing my eyes so tight and try to think that everything that just happened isn’t real. I was breathing so hard that I ended up passing out. While I was passed out the ambulance came and found me. Two hours of being passed out, I woke up in the hospital so confused. The nurse walked in and asked how I was feeling, I started asking her too many questions and started to get up and tried to walk out of the hospital. The nurse stopped me and grabbed my arm, and put me back on the bed. She was explain that she found me on the floor next to a tree, with my eyes closed shut and my hands on my ear. I was trying to understand what happened but it was too sad I didn’t want to remember what happened. As I was in the hospital a lady came in and tried to help me so I can talk about what happened and try to make me feel better about myself, but all it made me do was just make me think about everything I destroyed, everything that I had. The only people that were there for me and helped me with everything. I will never forgive myself. The lady was helping for five months and tings started to become well, they put me in a new home, and I kind of been shy and not sure what to do or how to react but the lady that had been helping me with talking to people and opening up again, I’m started to become myself and talking to new people and just being a regular kid. But I will still never forget about what happened, my family will always be in my heart and every day I think about them and how it would be now, I will never stop saying how sorry and I will be praying till I am with them again. I am now living with new people, they have two other kids and they actually reminded me of my own family, they were very nice and treated me very well, I have been living with them for about four months and I’m still not acting like myself, I’m still too shy to open up to them and actually talk to them but they are respecting that. But I am so thankful that they are taking care of me till I move out on my own. I will do everything and anything that my mom planned out for my future to go.
ReplyDeleteStanding in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house.
ReplyDeleteIn my eyes, I saw the towering flames. Nobody else could see them but me. They were blazes created and trapped in my mind. They weren’t real. So why was I hiding? I was innocent and nobody was hurt. But I wish they were. They all deserved to cower and beg for forgiveness before me. Forgiveness I would never gift them with.
Everyone close to me died when I was nine. Parents, siblings, friends, pets. At the same moment on that fateful day, they all fell to the floor, cold and lifeless. Nobody knows why. Not even me. Distant relatives and orphanages wouldn’t take me in. So they sent me to the insane asylum. I went willingly. No fuss. No fight. No whining. I gathered my few belongings in an old shirt. The house collapsed as I exited through the front door, I final sign that my family was dead and I was no longer welcomed.
The years that followed were quiet and dull. Nobody wanted to be my friend. Nobody wanted to get close. Not even the staff or the white dove that sang on my barred windowsill. When I outstretched my finger to her, she flew away. I would push my slender arm through the bars, enduring the burns of the sunlight, trying to reach her. Trying to reach freedom.
I didn’t talk during those years. There was no reason for words. It was the perfect time to think. About everything. I thought about how they died. I didn’t do anything. But nobody believed me. They thought I was cursed. A murderer. A criminal. They didn’t understand me. They didn’t even try to understand. They just locked me in that barred room and left me in isolation. It was the reason I burned down the asylum. But it was also why I did it with imaginary flames.
Those years weren’t fun. But I learned a lot. About myself. About my family. About life. I never would have learned as much if they put me with the patients who should have been there. It was something to be grateful for. I was my own class. My own level of insane. The level was so low that I shouldn’t have been there and they just misunderstood. Or so high that I was actually sane. From all the years of isolation, I didn’t know which one it was. But I did know that whichever one it was, I didn’t belong there. So I broke out.
It must have been all the years that I was quiet and didn’t rebel. They used to lock the door to my prison. But starting a few months ago, they left it unbolted, maybe as a test. And when I didn’t venture out, they didn’t bother anymore. I don’t know why I didn’t escape at that time. Maybe it was because I actually kind of liked it there. Or maybe I wasn’t done learning.
But the day I walked out, my lessons were finished and my hate grew. They didn’t try to stop me. I walked into the light, with bursts of infernos in my eyes.
Miz spun around, facing the other direction in a split second and holding his dagger out aggressively towards whoever had decided to crash their little master-protégé bonding time. Luc gave Miz a quick jab to the back and rolled his neck around, working out the kinks that came with being slammed into the wall. He peeked around Miz and saw Vic, the girl that had been with the group at his house the other night. She laughed and walked in a circle around the both of them.
ReplyDelete“I always forget how easily agitated you get, dear. You really have to work on that. What’d you do, Luc? Ask him about his past? It’s a rough spot for him, nobody knows about it but him.”
Miz’s knuckles turned white as he clenched the dagger in his hand.
“You know damn well I’ll slit your throat right here, you piece of human filth.”
She smirked and ran her hand across Luc’s chest.
“See? Told you, it’s a touchy topic. Well, I’d better go, you know, since I actually get to pick both of my protégé’s. Bye, Mizzy! I’ll see you in my room later, kay?”
Miz grunted, “It’d be safer banging a vat of acid.”
“Well, no need to be rude!” She walked away and said over her shoulder, “The offers open to you too, Luc, my door’s always open.”
As she left, Luc finally looked around for the first time since he’d woken up. The place was enormous. He couldn’t tell if after that crazy portal thing were a shitload of steps going down or if that platform that had brought them down went a lot further than he remembered. The ceiling was so high he could barely see it, you could fit a castle down here if you really wanted to. The ground and walls were of the same material, a rough, sandstone feel, just like the hallway that went from the platform to the portal. The design on it was soothing, almost hypnotizing. There were grooves in the stone in a swirling pattern that flowed across the floor, up the walls, and looked like even across the ceiling in a way in which your eyes had to fight not to follow it forever.
Luc walked up to the wall behind him and ran his fingers along the grooves, he found them abnormally smoother than the stone it was surrounded by, as if crafted with magic. Oh wait! The only thing keeping the place from being flooded by sand was magic!
Never mind, not so abnormal anymore.
“Hey, dazed and confused! C’mon, we’re going to the castle.”
Luc looked at Miz, trying to lift his jaw from the floor. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Miz started walking towards the vast emptiness of the giant cavern before he stopped short, fields and fields away from the other end of the cavern. He drew his dagger, cut his hand open and swung in front of him with an open palm. The blood was stopped by an invisible wall, the little droplets expanding and spreading across the solid nothingness. First they formed into doors, then expanded into walls around them, and windows on top of them, finally forming into an ornately designed roof. Just as Luc thought it was finally over, beside each of the doors and placed symmetrically all over the massive structure unfolded black flags, each with a plain white mast in the center.
Miz laughed and straightened himself, taking a proud pose.
“The flags were my idea.”
Standing in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. As I watched the flames engulf the home, I thought back to all of the memories that were made in that house. I lived there all of my life. My childhood was great in that house. It had such a big backyard where me and my dad would play baseball and throw a Frisbee around. We would always play games outside, and it never got old, although every few years something freaky would happen. I remember when I was eight, and for at least a week me and my parents would hear creepy sounding voices when we tried to go to bed. They sounded like someone was trying to talk to us; my parents ignored the sounds pretty good and passed them off as the wind. But those noises got to me; I would sit down in the middle of my bed and pull the covers completely over me while I cowered in fear. Even before I went to bed, I checked under my bed at least 10 times before I actually turned the lights off and hopped into bed. The next time weird things happened was when I was 17. I was more mature and had mostly forgotten about those scary nights when I was eight. The house had very creaky floors, every time I would walk on them during the night, I would hear something that sounded like somebody was following me. I would turn around as fast as I could to try and see if there was anybody there, but there never was, and I looked kind of retarded always whipping my head around really fast trying to find somebody following me. That was way worse than the other incident because I would always hear noises like somebody walking up the stairs into my room, then the sounds would stop. That stopped after a few days and nothing else happened in that house. I moved out of the house when I was 24 and moved into the city. Being in a different environment felt weird but it also felt so good, I could do whatever I wanted to and go wherever in wanted to go. But even in my apartment in the city away from my parents, some strange things occurred at my place. Every corner of my apartment started making weird noises. When I was asleep it always sounded like someone was picking my lock and the door was slowly opening. This went on for a few months until I pretty much went insane from lack of sleep and constant fear during the night. So I decided that I was going to stop this ghost/haunted soul or whatever it was that was in my parents’ house. I told them that I paid for a vacation for the both of them. I told them to bring their most valuable things with them. I waited until my parents were gone, then I poured gasoline all over the house and little a single match. I then walked away as the flames spread around the house. I really don’t know what to do now. I burned down the house, but this spirit still follows me, please help me!!
ReplyDeleteStanding in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. Nobody would take the artifacts that were kept in my home. I could see the silhouettes of men as the flames danced higher and higher from my home. I could see their assault rifles within their shadows; they were coming to kill me. This war is taking its toll on the people of this country, and I can’t prolong it anymore, I need to join the resistance and fight. I could see the silhouettes started moving further from my house and closer to my position. I ran; I ran as if my life depended on it, and in this case it did.
ReplyDeleteI kept on running in whatever direction my feet would take me. It took me a while but I eventually stumbled upon a rebel camp, I was almost shot full of holes but I made it there in one piece. I asked to see the commander of the men and they brought me to them. I asked if I could join up and I was immediately handed a gun, no questions asked. He told me to move with the squad that was heading out on a raid at that moment. I wasn’t going to be trained; I would have to be lucky if I were to survive this night.
We loaded up into a pickup truck, and headed for our destination which I knew nothing of at the time. We drove for about half an hour and we came upon a small town. Most of us dismounted from the vehicles but, two men stayed, one on the machine gun and one in the driver seat, ready for us to evacuate at a moment’s call. The man who I assumed was in charge, gave hand signs and signaled the men to move forward. I just followed not knowing what would happen, and I didn’t want to be left behind.
We silently moved into the town, making sure not to step in the light. Slowly people took positions behind walls on the main road of the town and waited for something. I took a spot next to a guy behind a wall and asked him, “What are we waiting for?” He said, “There’s a convoy loaded with supplies here, we’re going to ambush them and take the supplies.” I nodded and stood next to him silently. I was nervous and I started to shake, my gun was rattling in my hands. I didn’t know what to expect on this ambush, and I was scared, a warm liquid dripped down my pant leg, it was involuntary but it still happened.
I heard engines coming closer to our position and I knew that the time to fight would be soon. The sound kept getting closer and closer until it sounded like they were right upon me. My adrenalin pumping I ran out into the street and started shooting wildly at the truck that was rolling towards me. It didn’t stop and with a great smack I became part of the pavement.
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ReplyDeleteStanding in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house.
ReplyDeleteI’m not sure how I feel about the fact that my house is gone. I’m also not sure about how I felt about the people in it. I know I might sound a little strange and maybe somewhat disturbed, but I promise there is a method behind my madness. Let me start from the beginning. My name is Alyssa Wright and I’m 18 years old, I’ve lived in Portland Oregon all of my life. When I was growing up in elementary, middle, and high school, everyone thought my life was so perfect! Little did they know, I absolutely hated coming home to that house. I had two parents like every other child and they were still together. Now here is where the story gets interesting, my mom didn’t work and my dad brought home all of the money. I had an older sister, but she died when I was 10. Often times I think I heard her voice in the creaky halls of that house. Ever since she died, my parents stopped talking and when they did talk, they would argue.
The arguing became more severe and then my father started hitting my mom and telling her that he blamed her for the death of my sister. My sister’s name was Karen and she died by a drunk driver hitting my mom’s car on her way home from picking Karen up from school. They both were rushed to the hospital, my mom made it. Karen didn’t. The trauma was so bad, the blood wasn’t getting to her brain anymore, the doctors said there was no way she would make it. I never once blamed my mom for Karen’s death, I blamed the driver because he walked away free. He didn’t spend one day in jail. The way I see it Karen’s death was never justified, but my father blames my mother every chance he gets.
One night it was raining, thundering, and I couldn’t sleep. I heard my parents downstairs in the kitchen screaming and yelling about how my mom doesn’t work. The arguing was starting to piss me off, so I went downstairs to address it. Maybe It was my mistake for going down there, because what happened next I would remember for the rest of my life. When I came downstairs I heard my mom crying and screaming “Don’t you dare!” I saw my dad with a knife to my mother’s face, I ran over to stop him and he cut my arm. I could smell the alcohol and his words were slurred. My mother yelled at me. She yelled, “Mind your business Alyssa! Damn why couldn’t God take you instead of my precious Karen?!” Tears were streaming down her face and I couldn’t believe what I just heard. My dad agreed with her and came towards me with the knife again, but he was stumbling and tripping over the furniture. As the yelling got louder in that house, so did the thunder outside! I ran to the basement, tears running and my face was red. I grabbed my dad’s gasoline can and poured it all over the floor. I heard them both coming downstairs and then I reached up onto his work shelf and grabbed his pack of matches. When they saw what I was doing, their eyes got big and they both ran towards me. I lit the match and they stopped in their track, astonished.
I walked toward the steps and opened the back door. I dropped the match and my parents began screaming and crying. The last thing I said before I ran into the woods was, “You wish It were me right? Now it’s you.“ I ran and into the dark night I stood and watched my house fall. My family was gone, but it was gone a long time ago.
Standing in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. It was hard to believe that I had done that. It must have been done though. I sat next to the tree and looked at the house that had many memories with it burning along. The sound of the screams were no longer heard they were now gone. I put my head against the tree thinking at this tree and myself were the only things that were living. I moved my hands close to this tree. I understood that it may not been the best decision to burn my house but it was needed. All those things inside that house needed to go.
ReplyDelete“She lied to me!” I yelled in the darkness.
I grabbed the dirt under my feet and crushed it between my fingers. I thought about what she did to me. I fell to the ground and was unable to feel my legs. I felt closer to the world than I have ever felt before. I just killed the person that I said that I was in love with for the rest of my life. She decided to stab me in the back.
It was the summer and I loved to spend time with my girlfriend. We had been together for about five years. We both said that we were ready for the next step so I decided that we should get married. She knew nothing about it but I knew that she was going to be happy. So we went to the beach and we were walking along the sea so the waves were pushing against our legs. We had arrived to where I wanted to propose to her. She stepped on a seashell. It was according to the plan. She yelled and I knew that my plan was finally going to happen. I picked it up and on the top of the seashell it had our initials and a heart around it. I knelled down to pick it while she was still staring at it with her shining bright eyes. I moved it and a red little box was deep in the sand. I looked at her and she was on the verge of tears. I dug out the little box and opened it. There was the ring that we picked out years ago. I looked up at her and asked the most important question that would change everyone’s life. She agreed and we walked a little bit more down to see our family there. I told them all about the proposal and they said they wanted to congratulate us afterwards.
We had a little party and we went back to the beach house we rented and went to go get changed because I had planned a dinner to celebrate. We went to the dinner and we ordered food and then she said she had to go to the bathroom. I waited for her, drinking wine, and then she came back. She looked at me a little worried.
“What’s wrong babe? You should be happy today.” I asked.
“I am happy. But…..I just got a text that I need to leave. It’s an emergency. Well a girl emergency. It’s a surprise I promise you will enjoy it soon. You will see the next thing when we go on our next date. Anyways I need to make calls for wedding planners so bye I love you.” She walked up and kissed me on the cheek. I looked at her walk out.
The food came and I remembered that we came in the same car but I needed to give her the keys. I told the waiter I would be right back. The waiter said okay. I stepped outside and went over to where we parked the car. I saw her leaning on the car with another guy with her. She grabbed him by the neck and began to kiss her. I was mad. I was going to beat him up but I couldn’t do it. I had to detain myself and think that it wasn’t all the guys fault it was her fault to because she was cheating on me. I looked at her and thought that she wasn’t going to get a good surprise later. I walked back in and texted her that I had the car keys so she would have to come back in to get them. She said that she wanted to go in a cab but I told her that I wanted her to stay with the car because I wasn’t going to feel alright if she didn’t take the car. She came back in and I told her to wait to take her food. She got it in a to-go-box and left with the keys. She gave me a kiss and when she finally wiped it off I wiped my lips. I couldn’t believe that she would dare to kiss me after she just went outside to cheat on me. I asked to bring my food to go. I went home and thought for a little and knew that I had made my decision for what I was going to do with her.
DeleteThe next day I knew that I had to get my plan in action. I called everyone up and told them that I had another announcement and asked if everyone could come over because I had another surprise for them. It was my plan about to get in action. The day went quickly and my family and my fiancé’s family were there. All we had to wait was for the cheater. It took her about fifteen minutes and she had arrived. I made them all sit in the dining room. I took a deep breath holding up a cup and everyone looked at me.
“Well… I’m sorry I need to take a deep breath please stay and just talk I will be back in a minute. I need to be alone for a minute or two don’t worry I am fine.” I announced.
I stepped outside and got gasoline and poured it at the edges of the house. I got a match and threw it to the corner of the house.
“Oops sorry I should just really stop playing with matches.” I calmly said.
I ran away and then ended up standing far away from the house. Standing in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. I laughed and knew that they were all happy about a lie. So they needed to die. Well I guess it’s time to leave now. At least I couldn’t hear their screams and begs for letting them out. Well it would have made things even funnier but still. I think it’s time to leave before I get caught.
I looked around the dimly lit living room. There was a musky smell in the air and everything looked as though it was blanketed with a layer of grey. The floorboards creaked under my foot as I shifted with unease.
ReplyDelete“Well, uh, here’s the key Mr. Grant,” he held it out to me, his grey suit matched the couch behind him. I stared at it a moment before taking it, the felt cold and alien in my hand.
“Yeah,” was all I could manage.
“And I’m uh, sorry for you loss,” he added.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Well Mr. Grant,” he said, extending his hand. “Enjoy the house.”
I took his hand and he nodded to me. I watched him look around the room as he exited. I listened as the front door slammed shut.
A chill ran up my spine as I took in a deep breath. This was the first time in twelve years that I’d stood in the living room. The first time in twelve years that I’d had anything to do with this house. I swore I’d never come back, and yet here I was, standing here, the key to the front door burning a hole in my palm.
I was still surprised that my mother had left me the house. The way that things had ended between us, I’d never expected anything from her again. The news of her death had come as a bit of a shock. I guess it wasn’t the death that had shocked me, but it was a reminder that for the past twelve years I had actually had a mother.
I still wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to do with this house. Did I want to sell it? Did I want to stay in it? What were my mother’s intentions when she had left this house to me?
Standing in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. Shrieks no longer escaped the blazing structure. Rather, from time to time an enormous cracking sound would burst through the flames as yet another supporting beam snapped and tumbled down into the rest of the burning matter.
ReplyDeleteI was proud of myself. I had finally done something… monumental. I had done something that meant something to me and will prove to everyone else that I am more than a mother’s needy son. I can’t be that anymore though, can I? Mother’s gone now, father too. My poor little sisters didn’t have chance to escape the flame either. But I suppose if they had the chance to grow as old as the folks, they would deserve it to. I saved them from themselves. But despite the pride, I felt some sort of guilt. I knew I should’ve have felt it, but I did. I had been planning this for so long. All the resentment built up over so many years and so many nights spent flicking open my lighter alone in my room, just waiting for the right moment to strike it. They deserved it. They all deserved it. They went down with the house that carried as many scars and deformations of evil as they did. So why did I feel guilt?
All it took was a few ropes, a few chairs and a few cans of gasoline. Molly and Emily were up playing in their room as I let precious “mommy and daddy” say their last goodbyes to the world they polluted with their existence. I hadn’t planned it for that night, yet instinct and rage consumed me and fueled my every move. Father had hit mother again, as he did every night, but for some reason that night it really got to me. He had heard rumors around work that she was sleeping around again and without question, lost his trust in the woman he supposedly loved. Returning home from what he refers to as “jail away from jail,” my father burst through the door, immediately grabbing my supposedly promiscuous mother by the arm. Naturally, she cried for freedom but he wouldn’t let up, and beat away as his normal nightly routine allowed. Mother could hardly afford the amount of makeup it took to cover the bruises and scars anymore.
The truth was that mother was cheating on her husband, and I never did come to a conclusion on whether it was because of the beatings or if the beatings were because of the cheating. A classic case of the chicken or the egg with a violent and promiscuous twist took place inside our small, isolated home in the middle of Michigan forests. Either way, I felt pain for my mother, yet also resentment for her actions as well as anger towards my father who took his stresses out on the poor woman looking for an escape.
That night, I was finished trying to process the motivation behind everything that goes on in this sick world and this sick house full of sick people. It needed to stop.
Tied to chairs, gasoline poured around their legs and a flick of a lighter to a newspaper that fell to the ground. That was all it took. The world had been rid of their evil existence, but now newly introduced to mine.
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ReplyDeleteStanding in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. There was not much left of it to begin with, only the tangible hate filled memories kept it up; I just hastened the process. Heroine needles and prescription meds burnt into the atmosphere, bringing the last remnant of his pathetic life away. My father was just that to me, my biological father, nothing more. His recent passing, I’m almost sorry to admit, was of slight joy to me. It seems like only yesterday I became a witness to too much for anyone to witness.
ReplyDeleteI never felt at home in that house; it felt more like a prison to me. My mother always seemed scared and lonely. When my father was hope, he was manic and abusive. Many memories are stitched into my brain: my mother whimpering in pain as what seemed like thunder claps came down upon her, exposure to drugs that should be banned from this earth, and unnecessary tears. Despite being a young boy, I was sure of what I was seeing, but I didn’t know what to do, or even if I should do anything. Someone assuming that my relationship with my father was almost nonexistent, would be correct. As I grew, so did my hatred and awareness. I got home from school one day to needles scattered on the floor and mumbling. I turned the corner into my living room to see what is expected to be seen with that prologue. I just shook my head and kept walking. Love is a mysterious thing and can take many shapes. My mother’s love for my father was interesting and undeserved. It took me too long to think about why she stayed with him; it was too long that I was stuck in my little kid word. That day changed everything. I was relaxing on my bed as usual when I saw my mother get home. I thought nothing of it, but when she entered, I heard voices get louder and sharper. I began steadily to my door until I heard a loud smack, then I hurried through. The sight of my innocent mother on the ground and my drugged out father tyrannically over her made me go insane. All of my scattered memories buried by my innocence came rushing back at once. I sprinted over and spun my father on the floor by his neck. He looked surprised and scared, which was exactly what I wanted. For once in his marriage, he was on the floor, but the only difference for him was that he’s deserving, deserving of the disgusting life he led after, of hotel rooms, bourbon and broads, a drifter living life without God through the foggy goggles of intoxication and regret. That day, we packed up and left for good. I laugh at what he has become now, just a memory, and that’s where he’ll stay. What is a man who lays a hand on his lover and calls it tough love, anyway?
Everything was on fire, nothing was safe. I tried to cover myself but I couldn't keep up with the flames, they were hot and massive. The blue sky slolwet starting to turn black, the smoke was all over the air. The smoke was black and the fire was red. No one knew why this fire was lighting up, but everytime I tried to get away from it the fire will always follow me. It was like I was the one that controlled it, but I didn't know that. Before the fire lit up my girlfriend had broke up with me and I got angry that anger I couldn't explain it with words. It was the first time that I ever felt hart broken. When I was little I didn't believe in no god or anything, I used to believe in the devil and the only thing that I thought was real was the illuminati society. I never ever in my life thought there was a god because when I was little I didn't have a father or a mother. I grew up on the street and I made my self who I am today, the guy who made himself, I'm self made. As I was runing away from the fire I kept hearing come to me my son. The voice was deep and it felt like my father was calling me, so I looked back and I see a face in the fire. The face was the devil, it had two horns and teeth of a vampire but the teeth were longer then a regular vampire. I didn't listen to the voice so I ran even faster. As I ran away from the fire it kept coming towards me even faster and it's getting higher. It wasn't destroying anything it was just following me. I kept hearing come to me my child, but I still didn't listen so I kept runing towards the girl that broke my heart and I stopped infrot of her. She was in fear so I tried to hold her but she told me to get off of her so I did. I felt like she didn't need me so the fire whims me got even more bigger but I didn't k ow, so the girl runs away and I eve get more mad and the fire gets higher, There was a change in my face, my vanqz were getting longer and I started to feel the vanqz getting long. I didn't know what was going on but all I thought about was my love left me. I couldn't believe that a love one could leave you and don't need your comfort so I thought in my head I have no one in this word, no mother, no father, and no friends. So I looked at the fire and the fire was so high in the sky that I couldn't see the devils face anymore. so I closed my eyes and said "this world don't need me" and I ran towards the fire. while I was runing towards the fire, the fire was coming closer to me then I jumped in the fire and all I saw was darkness. I woke up in a chair that was made for a king but I didn't know who was it for. I opened my eyes because I thought I was dead but I saw the devil infront of me and he said "welcome home my son"
ReplyDeleteStanding in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house.
ReplyDeleteThe flames were mesmerizing. My posture was tense, my features alert. The vibrant colors of the fire snaked up the property in vertical streaks as tendrils of smoke weaved in and out through the cracked windows. The smoldering light was startling against the backdrop of the night sky, the effervescent oranges and reds seething of energy and power. The sound of the blaze was uncharacteristically loud as its roars interrupted the reverie of the night. The flames ate at the weak timber and obliterated its structure. I continued to witness the fantastical display of color even as I heard the ringing sound of sirens off in the distance. In the back of my mind, human instinct was willing me to flee from the scene and to protect myself; however, I could not bring myself to desert my position that allowed me to have full view of the destruction that I had initiated. Eventually, the threat to my own personal safety overrode my desire to see the house fall to the ground in a pile of ashes.
Silently, I allowed the depth of shadows provided by the trees to conceal my form. As the shades created by the light of the moon illuminated a path through the brambles and foliage that blanketed the forest floor, I stealthily navigated my way, careful not to create an excess of noise. It was vital that no one became aware of my presence as the purpose of instigating the fire was to create a reason for my death. I had always heard of people who had devised ways to fake their own death to escape from dire situations and this had triggered inspiration. Feigning one’s death is not a choice that should be considered lightly but my situation was getting to the point in which I could no longer endure it.
It had all started when I was ten. My mother had just left my father and I, leaving our family in disarray. I was very young and had difficulty in understanding the situation at first, not able to accept that my mother had abandoned me. My father took her absence extremely hard and began to embark on a year’s worth of drinking. Soon, this activity became integrated into his life in a way that began to influence his behaviors. His temper became unbearable and I could no longer recognize him as my father. This has been going on for a decade and I could no longer force myself to become suffocated by his depression and pent up anger. I had tried to escape him in the past but all my efforts ended in failure. I concluded that the only way that I could truly escape from his wrath was if he knew I was dead. Then, I would be free.
Conjuring the strength to carry out this act was something that I had struggled with for some time; however, I could no longer tolerate my father and his dangerous behavior. Now that I had completed my task, I was unsure as what to do next. My father would return home only to learn that his house had been ravaged by a fire with his daughter inside. I doubted he would even grieve for my loss, as he would be too preoccupied with his drinking. I continued to steer my way through the dense forest while the creatures of the dark rustled in the leaves. The air was chilled and I wrapped my sweater tighter around me. I had nowhere to go and the thought of having to sleep outside for the night was enough to make me regret my seemingly impetuous decision. I had known the consequences of the choice I had made but my rational mind was not functioning correctly. It was hazed with anger and the desperate need to escape so my judgment had been clouded. I had been so sure of myself when I had first lit the match but as I trudged my way through the cold, I could only question my decision.
I now had to live with the decision that I had made and I was beginning to discover that it was proving to be far more difficult than I had previously anticipated.
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ReplyDeleteStanding in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. Those people who had tortured me for the past ten years were gone. I’m free.
ReplyDeleteI used to be a carefree, young man without a care to the world. My family used to own an inn near the edge of the Tennessee border. Not a lot of people traveled to the boarder because there was a lot of homeless living near the border. Along with the homeless there were bandits and thieves. My family had little income and our life was deprived, but tolerable. I lived with my mother, father, and my younger sister. I also had a dog, named Poodle. My grandfather and grandmother were dead already. My parent and my sister was all I had.
It was a sticky, hot, July day, when the Hunts family came to the inn to stay for the night. Despite the extreme weather, they were wrapped from head to toe. My family thought that they were foreigners, so we let them settled in out inn. Though, when I went to deliver their dinner, I overheard them talking about their plan to bomb the Pentagon. They heard me creaking on the old maple wood, and they came rushing out. I screamed, and my dad came to the stairway, followed by my mom and my sister. The oldest looking guy in the Hunts family named Sebastian, as I find out later, grabbed me by my collar and threw me down the stairs.
“Dad, they’re terrorists. We have to get the police!” I shouted to my dad.
My parents stood frozen, while my sister came to help me up. We walked behind our parents and stared at the criminals above us.
“We can’t let you live now. Sorry,” said Sebastian. The woman next to her, Sebastian’s partner, took out her gun and aimed it at us.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
My parents and my sister fell to the ground, leaving me bare, as the target for the Hunts. Then, I heard another bang before my vision start to fade to black, and I lost conscious.
By the time I regain my conscious, I found myself in an enclosed space. There wasn’t even room for me to stretch. The surrounding felt wet. I squished my hand upward and finally felt the warm, damp open air. Slowly, I push myself upward using my free hand. After a while, I finally got out. I was buried alive by the Hunts in the forest behind my family inn. Luckily, it started raining, and the mud loosened up. I found Poodle next to me after I crawled up from beneath.
ReplyDeleteI started to panic and I ran into the forest, holding Poodle in a hug. I kept on running and running. I didn’t stop, even when the muscle pain grew. Finally, I stopped when I tripped on a humongous branch. I fell into a puddle. I could feel the gooey mud clinging to my shirt and my face. With the summer heat, everything just felt gooey and disgusting. I settled near a rock and rested, letting the rain wash me clean.
The rain stopped the next morning, and the hot, dry sun was out. The forest had started to dry up again, and so did the mud on my body. The sun was right above my head, frying me dry. There was no source of water; I just kept walking and walking. Finally, when the sun was at its horizon, I found a small wood cabin. I knocked on the door, and a little girl opened the door for me. She called for her mother. Her mother saw my miserable state, and invited me in. they gave me water, food, and a room to sleep in.
At night, I was sound asleep when a coal burning smell hit me. The cabin was on fire. I was sleeping on a wooden couch in the living room. I saw the Sebastian Hunts standing outside the front door. He must have followed me here. I checked the other rooms to see if the other family was alive or not. I was too late. I saw a near-by window, and I jumped out. The cool breezes outside made me feel the burning sensation on my face, but I didn’t have the time to think. I was on the run again. I kept on moving until the sun was up. I arrived at the market by morning. Everyone avoided me, like I was some kind of monster. I turned and looked at the reflection on a glass door. The flesh on my face was twisted and red. I must have stayed in the fire for too long, and my face was burnt.
I blamed the Hunts for everything. If it were not for them, my family would still be there with me. If they had not come to my inn, my face would not be burnt. I hate them! I wanted revenge. I wanted blood. I do not care for justice. I felt a sudden desire to kill them myself, to see them suffer like I had.
I stole some fruit and a bottle of water from a store and ran. I started traveling back to my old inn, now owned by the Hunts. I will sneak my way into the inn, and find the best time to execute my revenge.
Standing in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. I had destroyed all the terrible memories that went along with it, and it was now in fragments. It was wonderful to watch it all collapse in front of me, watch that ugly shingled yellow place I was supposed to call home. Where my family had lived for as long as I could remember. I never cared about living here until I turned four. I had come to realize that I lived far from where all my other school mates lived, and I was known as the “girl from nowhere.” There were no any friends or neighbors to go to, all because my selfish parents decided they wanted to live as far from the world as possible, not taking into consideration that their child might feel differently. There was a time when I tried to make some friends and invite them over, but every time, they would comment on the location and look of the house. “Why do you live in the middle of nowhere,” they would ask, their eyes filled with disgust. “And why is your house so ugly looking?”
ReplyDeleteThere were countless times I had continuously mentioned this to my parents, but I always got the same response. “Anna, you have no choice of where you live for the first few years of your life. You have to wait until you are old enough to move out and get your own. We chose to live in an isolated home, and you’re just going to have to deal with it until you’re at least eighteen.”
Every day, instead of talking to anyone at school, or being involved in any after-school activities, I planned what I would do to get back at them. Everyone who took a glance at the plans that I had written down considered me a psycho, but it never stopped me. At first, I thought of ways to run away from home as soon as I was old enough, but better thoughts had popped into my head. I thought that along with getting away from that house, I would have to do something that effected my parents. I would burn the house, which my father had worked so hard in building, to the ground. And why not do it on my eighteenth birthday? It would be the best present I would ever have. And why not do it in the dead of night, when my parents were out working? The thought of the looks on their faces when they came home and saw the remainings of the house made me giddy inside. Would they know it was me? Or would my father blame my mother for accidentally leaving a burning cigarette near the house? Either way, I knew for sure they were in for a devastating scene this morning.
A car came rumbling towards my direction, and my cheeks burned. My legs shook and I broke into a sweat. There was no way I could run away from this now. I attempted to step further and further back into the trees. I was enveloped in the branches and leaves, so no one could possibly see the person who burned down the house. Now, my knees were knocking so hard against each other they were most likely developing bruzes. Stepping a few inches farther back, just to be safe, I bent down and collapsed on the ground.
ReplyDeleteHad I really done this? Was this really the right thing to do? Why did I follow through with this? There was a huge chance I would be caught by the police, and there was nothing I could do. There was no where to go, not a friend or neighbor, not any grandparents, (my parents had run away from both their families to elope), so the only company I had was the trees and whatever else was living here. Maybe I would become one of them; live as a wild creature, sepperate byself from society. That wouldn’t be a real loss. I had never fit in anyway, so what difference did it make? Did I even want to live anymore, though? If I died right now, no one would be able to do anything if they found out I had burned the house. After all, I wouldn’t exist anymore. Yawning, I found that I was exhausted; the strength in my body seemed to fade, and before I knew it, I fell fast asleep.
“Teresa, maybe it was you! You’re always leaving cigarettes near the house! Maybe you left one burning!”
“Julian, for the hundredth time! I lost my cigarettes and my lighter last night! And where is Anna? She could have died in there!”
I sat up right away,shaking harder than usual. My hand found the cigarette pack and lighter in my pocket and held on tight. My parents were indeed back, and I was stupid enought not to run as fast as I could before this would happen. There was no doubt that I would eventually be found, and possibly caught. I wanted nothing more in the world than to just disappear into the Earth forever. In my pocket, there was a click, and then a sudden burning sensation.
“No!” I cried out. Before I knew what I was doing, I began to scream. Flames were licking at the cotton of my jeans and the pain went through to my bare skin. There was nothing else I could do now, except for screaming for help and confess the truth.
“Anna! What are you doing here?”
“Did you do this?”
I whipped my fist, still clutching the pack and the lighter, and screamed again. “I burned it down! I hated that ugly place you called home! I did it! Just go away!”
Hot tears were rolling down my cheeks, and I could hardly breathe anymore. Smoke filled the air once again, causing me to choke violently. The same question repeated in my had numerous times. Why did I do this? Why did I make this bed in which I had to lie?
Standing in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. I didn’t even think twice, in one outburst of rage I had done it.
ReplyDeleteWith my house burnt to a crisp I realized what I had done. All of the pain that had been caused in that place was now gone, but that doesn’t mean much when there was policemen standing all around. It sparked a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I wished would never return, but I knew all too well that it would return.
That feeling was a combination of regret, anger, disappointment and sadness. I had destroyed a place that I had grew up in. I lived the early years of my life in that place and it meant a lot to me that my mother had done such a great job at raising me. I knew my entire life that she cared about one thing the most and that was me. My father on the other hand was a reckless man that worked in a factory that constructed shoes and boots, the steel toed ones that are used on construction sites. I swear three-quarters of my Christmas and birthday presents were new pairs of boots. In my younger years this is why I hated my father; bad birthday presents. However, in my later life I would learn to hate him for a different reason.
Every night he would come home rambling and depressed after drinking for hours on end at some bar. Nobody ever asked him how he got home but we all knew he drove. He didn’t care too much about others. Everything he thought about involved him and how he could help only himself. In fact I wonder how often my mother and I entered his mind. In the end I realized that in fact he didn’t care at all.
He is the reason I burned down my house. I had good memories in the old house but they were all when I was by myself or with my mother and when he took her away all it reminded me of was what I had lost. He returned home from work one day, drunker and more belligerent than usual. He told my mother to get in the car with him because “they had something important to take care of”. If I knew what was going to happen to my mother and him, I would never have let them leave. I was home alone for hours and it wasn’t until around midnight that I had seen the accident on the news. Driver kills himself and wife in car crash. My heart dropped when I saw our family car on the television. My life was changed forever.
When I returned to do this deed of burning down my house I had one thing on my mind and it was to get rid of the symbol of pain and loss in my life. That symbol was my old house and in the end, it had to be destroyed because it would be the only way I could ever let go of that disaster.
500 word story
ReplyDeleteStanding in the dark at the foot of the property, I watched. It was hard to believe. I shielded myself from view, leaning against one of the many pine trees in the woods that ran up to my backyard. I had gone through with it. I had burned down my house. I don’t know what went through my head when I did this, but the satisfaction that came from it was exhilarating.
Let’s go back ten years. I was happily married at a young age with my high school sweet heart named Delilah. She was the only woman I ever loved and she was perfect, well at least I thought she was… We graduated from college and I was engaged to Delilah, I proposed to her at a really nice restaurant for our graduation dinner. She happily accepted and we were getting married in September. I found myself a great job at a forensic building so I can work for the criminal justice system. Delilah became a professional dancer and made it all way to New York and became a professional ballet dancer. She appeared in many ballets like Swan Lake and I was happier than ever for her. Later on she retired from dancing and became a dance instructor in Maine, we moved up there because we love the seasons. We had 3 children in that time and we were happy as ever.
We went to our twenty year high school reunion and man oh man was that a surprise. I saw my old friends from football and they did absolutely nothing with their lives. Well what do you expect from egotistical jerks who thought they ran this square mile town. They are all working in low paying jobs and are so unhappy with their lives. I secretly laughed to myself thinking of how great my life was compared to them. I ran into my best friend who I haven’t seen since we graduated, he was the best friend I could ever have. He was the one I turned to when high school got rough. He was like my big brother. We talked for ages and then he said something that I didn’t expect him to say. He said ‘I’m glad you forgave Delilah for what she… I mean ‘we’ did.’ I looked at him for a second and just gave him this dumbfounded face, I asked what in the hell he was talking about. He responded ‘Wait, you didn’t know? I thought after all these years you knew. I would believe she would’ve told you. Crap.’ I couldn’t speak for a good five minutes. I just stared at him. I’ve always heard rumors that they did things but Delilah denied them and said it was all bull shit. I couldn’t believe that MY best friend and MY own wife would deceive me like this. I’ve never felt this way before. I just wanted to punch him right in the face but I couldn’t. I just walked away and took Delilah with me. That night I couldn’t sleep at all, my wife was a cheater. She lied to me. After all these years, what else has she lied about? Did she sleep with everyone at college too? I couldn’t trust her. I went into the liquor cabinet and started drinking. I finished about five bottles of gin to myself and I felt numb but nothing could numb this pain.
I started yelling and throwing the rest of the bottles around the house. I went into the garage and took the gallon of gasoline and poured it around the house. I lit up a cigarette and lit it. I enjoyed the smoke going through my lungs, it relaxed me. I then flicked it into the kitchen then everything went blank. I ended up outside in the woods. All I knew was that I felt great. Now I can live the rest of my life with no more lies, just a broken heart.
Never underestimate the jealousy of a man.