Nights are interesting.
“Stupid boring crap!” Ken utters as he stares blankly at his accounting Textbook. He turns to look at a clock on a messy pile of college books. It reads 2 a.m. He looks up, straight ahead out through his window. He squints his eyes as frown comes upon his face. Out the window, he sees a fire. Burning on the opposite side of the road from his house. He looks back down at his Text book and pushes it aside. Ken gets up swiftly and reaches for a coat as he heads for the front door. He heads towards the small fire.
The streets are empty. A few stray cats roam about idly filling the street with their calls. He crosses over to the pavement on the other side. He looks back at his house, and the rest of the terrace houses in the same row. The only light turned on comes from his room. He stands in front of a big open drain. There is a narrow concrete slab that bridges the drain in front of him. He looks deeply into the flames. In its centre, engulfed, a round and thin rubbery material. He looks at the side, in the drain lays an old bicycle with a missing tire. He jerks his head and nods sparingly.
He looks back at the fire and stares. His dark eyes fixed upon the orange and yellow flames. A look of worry forms slowly but surely on his face. His eyes never budge from the flames. He falls back with a sudden motion. His butt hits the floor with a thud, yet his eyes never move from the flame. Screams echo true his ears. The whining and sniffling of a child. Beads of sweat trickle down the side of his forehead. His eyes shimmer.
“Hey, are you ok,” a young woman says with slight huskiness. He nods and looks down before pushing himself up. He looks at the women and says, “ Umm, yeah, I am”. He then faces the flames again. He breathes out deeply. The woman stands beside him. He turns to look at her and raises his eyebrow.
“ I’ve seen you from somewhere,” ken finally says.
“ Yeah, I’m in the same psych Ed class as you,” she replies with a trace of a smile. The reflection of the fire visible on her black-framed spectacles. Ken looks at her intently; his eyes stay on her face.
“ The fire, it scares you doesn’t it?,” she says gently.
Ken takes a step back and puts his hands in his pocket. “ Well, a little, its nothing really“ Ken retorts.
“I saw something scare you and you fell back,” she says with a calm face, looking at Ken.
“well, it’s just something left behind from a childhood incident”. “ Hey, what are you doing out here at night anyways? And I don’t remember ever seeing you around this part of town before,” Ken exclaims as he gazes into her eyes. He crunches his hands in his pocket. She points at the fire. His lips pucker.
“ I did that.”
Ken jerks his head up. “ What” he shouts. “ Why?“ he exclaims.
“ I find the flames soothing. It’s beauty in its purest form,” she utters solemnly.
Ken’s eyebrows contract, his lips straighten out. “ Your crazy, how can fire be beautiful, it’s destruction, it causes…” His eyes start to water slightly at he looks away. “Pain.”
She looks at him with a blank face, tightening her lips, crossing her arms. Her lips thinning.
She grabs Ken’s hand and pulls him along as she starts walking away. Ken follows her. His right hand is strongly gripped by hers. She leads him to an old broken down bus-stop shelter. Its zinc roof is dull and covered with a brownish coat. Ken looks around. The nearest house was back down the street. Bushes surround the back of the stop. Across the street there is but an empty field.
The woman lets go of Ken’s hand and reaches under the wooden bench. She brings out a red jerry can, with seeming ease. She then walks to the side of the shelter. “ Im not crazy, I don’t hurt people.”, she says.
Ken walks over to her, looking at the jerry can. He stands next to her. He looks on at an old rocking horse, no bigger than the jerry can in the woman’s hand. She lifts the jerry can up to her stomach and begins pouring it’s colourless liquid onto the rocking horse. She then puts the can down. “ What are you doing? “, Ken blurts out.
“ I’m going to help you a little,” she proclaims cheekily, the bottle behind her. “ Help me, what do you mean? “ She reaches into her jeans pocket and takes out a matchbox. She waves the matchbox at ken and lights a matchstick. She than blows it out and throws the box at ken. He catches it, fumbling a little. “ Set the horse on fire, go ahead and do it” the woman says with a slight grin.
Ken’s hands shake as he holds the box. “ What for, what’s that supposed to accomplish “, Ken says mockingly, turning his back to her.
“Try, just a little bit of arson. c’mon, its just an old horse,” she says challengingly.
she pulls him towards the horse and puts the matchstick in his other hand and pushes it towards the house. “ Toss it”. Ken looks intently at the rocking horse. It’s wooden hide covered in black grim. The stench of the kerosene makes his nostrils flare. He looks back at her and than flicks the stick against horse. Flames spread across it like spilled liquid. He immediately backs away and pushes her.
Flames rush to his feet along a line of the colourless accelerant. “ What the hell! “, he screams out. The fire spreads up his black pants. He falls to the floor and rolls around. The women backs away. A look of fear on her face. She lifts her hands to her face, covering her mouth with her palm. For a moment. Then She takes off her coat and slaps it against Kens legs, beating the flames out.
Ken breathes heavily as he looks down at his legs. He props himself up and bangs his fist against the ground. “Fuck!Damn you bitch.” Tears streams down his cheeks. He feels his legs, looking at it franticly. He falls back, supporting his back up. Panting, he looks straight. She is no longer there.
He sighs deeply. His lower pants have holes in them. He turns towards the fire and shakes his head. Looks down and gives out a deep sigh. He looks up. The girl is gone. With a shaky hand, he gets up. Stares straight at the burning horse before grabbing the jerry can and throwing it at the burning rocking horse.
