Stories of a Fire StarterA Story by CodyA boy recounts the struggle of using fire to calm himself.Stories
of a Firestarter “So,
can you tell me how long you’ve had these urges?” “Since
I can remember, really.” “Which
is how far back?” “I
don’t really know…” I shook my head, “Probably eleven, or twelve.” “So,
late childhood?” My social worker seemed to be checking off a box on her sheet
of paper attached to a clipboard. “And what drew you towards it?” “The
way it moved… it was just interesting to me.” I raised my eyebrows, “It’s hard
to explain I guess.” “What
about before you were eleven or twelve? How did you feel about it?” “I
wasn’t drawn to it at first; I used to be afraid. Later on I discovered that
not only was it capable of destruction; it made me feel, well, warm... for lack
of a better term.” “What
made you afraid?” “I
used to have dreams of my house burning down. The smell of smoke scared me. As
I grew older, I got used to it I guess... I don’t know how to explain it.” She
wrote something down. My leg bounced up and down against the tiled floor as she
asked, “Can you remember the first time that you were no longer afraid of
fire?” “It’s
hard to say exactly,” I said before taking a moment to think. “My dad used to
smoke. I can remember being thirteen " stealing one of his cigarettes and his
lighter.” I closed my eyes and for a moment, I could see myself walking into
the kitchen while my dad was in the shower. Because he and I were the only ones
home, the only thing I could hear was the sound of shower water beating against
the tub, making louder thumps every then and again. The walls in our house were
so thin that it wasn’t hard to tell when he was going to be done; if the water
started to sound like it was coming down harder"off his body, all at once"that
meant he was going to be getting out soon. To me, his shower was a ticking time
bomb; I knew I had to act quickly. I walked into the kitchen to steal something
that had always made me curious"a cigarette. I wanted to know more about them.
They always looked fun, they always calmed my dad, and I had a friend a
fifteen-year-old friend who smoked… they didn’t seem to kill him! My
dad always left his Marlboros on the counter; even though my mom always forbade
smoking in the house, our kitchen didn’t ever look complete without my dad’s
Marlboros sitting on that counter. When I walked into that kitchen, heart
racing in all, they were the first thing I reached for. I flipped open the top
and looked at the three or four that had been left. For a moment, I debated"would my dad realize if one was missing?
I
tipped the box upside down and let each of the cigarettes fall out onto the
counter. I quickly inspected each one, trying to find one that looked like the
best. Although they practically all looked the same, I grabbed what looked to
me like the whitest one. Once
grabbing the perfect cigarette and putting it in my pocket, I packed the last
couple back into the box, set it back in approximately the same position I’d
found it in, and ran to my parents room, where I grabbed a green lighter out of
the back pocket of my dad’s black Wrangler jeans"he always left his lighters in
his pants and I knew this because my mom always complained that she had to fish
them out before they went in the wash. Before
I knew it, I was on the side of our garage where the driveway met the grass,
holding one cigarette in one hand and the lighter in my other hand. I examined
the lighter for a moment"I don’t think I knew exactly how it worked. I remember
thinking to myself, “I think my dad pulls this thing back…” After
a couple of tries, I was able to release the flame"a spark shot out, and all of
a sudden a single, erect flame stood " swaying with the wind; it looked cool. I
could feel the hairs on my arms standing up as the flame flickered; something
inside felt… different. I couldn’t explain it. Once I took my thumb off the
button, I felt my heart race again, as I took the cigarette out of my jeans,
and placed it in my mouth, holding it with my teeth. My heart was pounding. I
pressed and pulled back the spark wheel and held down the button, reviving that
flame. My hands shook ever so slightly as I cupped right one over the cigarette,
as they do in the movies, and put the flame to the end of the cigarette,
feeling the calm heat of the flame against my palm, and lighting it. Within
seconds, I felt like my lungs wanted out of my body. I took the cigarette right
out of my mouth and threw it on grass, keeping the flame alive in my hand,
letting it flicker about as I coughed into my other arm. I
coughed and coughed and coughed, smoke coming out with each breath. Once
my coughing fit was over, I looked at the cigarette on the ground. The lit tip
was leaning against a grass blade, turning it from its rich green color to a
dead brown color. Because I didn’t want the back yard to be set on fire, I
stamped out the cigarette and left it there, feeling my heart beat harder and
faster than I’d ever felt it before. My
thumb was still on the lighter’s button. I looked at the flame for only a
moment. Time seemed to slow down for a moment and for some reason… I just felt
calmer than before. I could still feel my heart’s palpitations, but my anxiety
was gone. I remember it feeling strange at first"I figured it was just a
post-adrenaline reaction. I
moved my thumb to kill the flame once more. Whatever. ----------------------------------- “So these urges that you have… do you get them
often?” “When
I’m stressed, yes… I suppose you could say that I’m stressed often.” “You
only feel these urges when you’re stressed?” “Well…”
I smirked, “Sometimes it’s for fun.” I thought back to when I was fifteen. It
was near the end of November"the time when it’s so bitter cold outside, there
are no leaves on the trees, and the snow, no matter how cold it is, has yet to
fall. I was riding shotgun in my friend Jenna’s car as she drove and Dylan sat
in the back seat. With bas pounding through each of the car’s mirrors, we
pulled up to a campsite, which had been closed for the season. We thought no
one would bother us here… especially at 10:30 at night. Jenna
shut the car off, immediately putting a stop to the music. She left her car’s
headlights on so that we could see what we were doing. In front of us was a
small fire pit made out of cement, which looked as though it’d been charred on
the inside from many years of use. We were going to have a small fire. We
burned some old school papers and some twigs from the woods. I lit the fire
with a red lighter that I had once again stolen from my father’s glovebox. Once
I had the fire going, Jenna threw a paper on top with a giant, circled F on it
as she said, “I hate that b***h, Mrs. Woolworth.” Once
we had a decent sized fire going, Jenna shut off her car’s headlights and the
only thing that allowed us to see each other was the dimming moonlight behind
the clouds and the fire. The fire crackled every so often, releasing little
sparks into the sky. I remember sitting so close to it that I could practically
feel the fire on my knees. My nose was running and I kept sniffling to fight
back the snot. I kind of wished that I’d been on fire. The
three of us sat and talked for about half an hour until the fire began to die
down. “That’s
it?” Dylan cooed. “I
guess we didn’t grab enough twigs,” I said back, with disappointment in my
voice as I began to feel a cold chill coming on my shoulders. “Maybe
we should start heading back into town,” Jenna suggested. The
night was dying faster than this flame. I didn’t want the night to end so
prematurely… I wanted to stay out with my friends until 3AM"I wanted to do some
awesome stuff. I needed something to keep the night going"and then it hit me.
Without thinking, I just said, “I have an idea.” Both of my friends looked at
me for a minute, and I looked specifically at Jenna as I said, “Do you have any
deodorant in your car?” “Yeah,”
She stood up as if she was going to head back to the car. “I was gonna use some
of it to get this smell of campfire off of me. Why, do you need some?” “Is
it a spray can?” “Oh
jesus,” Dylan rolled his eyes, “I see where he’s going with this…” “Yeah,
it is.” Jenna said, raising one eyebrow. “What are you going to do?” “Where
is it?” I said, standing up, feeling my warmed jeans against my legs. I ran
towards Jenna’s car and put my hand on the passenger-side handle. “It’s
in the back seat.” I took two steps backward and opened the backseat door of
Jenna’s car, immediately spotting a feminine-looking bottle of deodorant on the
floor. I picked it up, and quickly shut the door to Jenna’s car. Dylan was now
standing up as I walked towards the fire. “Dude,
what are you doing?” Dylan questioned. “You’ll
see… this is gonna be awesome!” “Don’t
waste all my spray,” Jenna said, “I told you I don’t want to smell like
campfire.” “You’re
gonna be good!” I said, walking towards the fire, feeling that the bottle was
nearly full. “Watch this.” I passed Jenna, and turned around and nodding my
head toward the flame, telling her to come closer with my hand. She folded her
arms and walked towards the dying fire. Dylan
was already standing next to me when he said, “dude, you’re f****n’
crazy.” I
looked at him, feeling my dad’s lighter in my hoodie pocket with one hand and
pointing the spray bottle at the fire with the other. With a little smirk on my
face, I said, “I know.” I
sprayed deodorant at the fire and watched the flame grow and spread outward in
several different directions. The flame caught up with the deodorant and began
to push at all of the concrete sides of the fire pit with extreme force,
turning different shades of orange, yellow, blue, and red. I lifted the can up
towards the sky as the flame came with it"shooting out like a flamethrower. “Holy
f**k!” Jenna shouted. I
let go of the aerosol cap and the fire ceased. “What?” I said. “Dude
that was f****n’ awesome!” Dylan said. Jenna’s
eyes were wide, “Oh my god Aaryn, I thought you were gonna set the tree on
fire.” I looked up to see just a bunch of branches, very high up, looming over
us. There was no way the fire would have touched those branches. “Nah,
we would have been fine.” I said. “Dude,
let me f*****g try!” Dylan said. I
passed him the lighter and the can of deodorant as Jenna said, “Oh my god, you two
are f*****g idiots.” Turning away from us and taking a few steps back toward
her car. “Okay,
so how do I do this?” He asked. I
stood in front of him as he held the can of deodorant outward. “You just spray
outward,” I said, positioning his hands, “And then flick the lighter and hold
it up.” Unexpectedly,
Dylan sprayed the deodorant out towards me and lit the flame. The fire roared
at me like an angry lion, shooting me at full force. I quickly backed up,
putting my arm over my face, feeling the heat burn at my skin. The next thing I
heard was “Oh s**t!” followed by a cease of the flame. “F**k
dude, are you okay?” Dylan shouted. “Oh
my f*****g God!” Jenna jumped in, grabbing me to see if I’d been lit on fire. I
was fine"it didn’t burn at all. It was just really
hot. I
put my arm down, away from my face, laughing. “Holy s**t dude!” I said
hysterically. “That was f*****g awesome!” I quickly grabbed the lighter from
Dylan and flicked it to life to look at my arm. “Dude! All my f*****g arm hair
is gone!” I kept laughing. ------------------------------------- “Were
you having fun when the accident happened? Or were you stressed?” “I
guess you could say that I saw an opportunity.” “So
what you did… you did it on purpose?” “Look
lady, I didn’t know those people were in that building. I seriously had no
f*****g clue... they were just two idiots who were in the wrong place at the
wrong time.” “But
why were you in that building?” “I
was stressed. I needed a breather from the SATs, choosing colleges… deciding my
future.” I shrugged, “I felt like I was going f*****g insane. This s**t--fire--it
calms me.” I shook my head. “When do I get to call my parents? Don’t I get that
one free phone call?” “They
haven’t arrested you yet.” My social worker shook her head. “You can call them
after the D.A. makes that decision.” “Look
lady, I already confessed. You all know I did it… you all know I burned two
people alive. Can we just stop with the f*****g games and get it over with
already?” “Look,
Aaryn, I’m just here to collect your story, okay? I’m your friend in all of
this. I don’t work with the police. I’m just collecting the story.” I
sat back in the chair and crossed my arms. “Well what else do you need to
know?” “Tell
me all about that night. What happened? Why were you in there?” As she put her
pen to her notepad, I closed my eyes and exhaled harshly. It
was two nights ago, so I had a pretty vivid image of what happened. It was
around 8:34 and I was doing my college chemistry homework in my bedroom. I had
a very tiny headache, and I didn’t understand anything on that stupid worksheet
that Mr. Fletcher handed out, which was due tomorrow. I kept trying to match up
the information in the textbook to the questions on the worksheet but to be
bluntly honest… it just made no f*****g sense. I
took a deep breath and threw my pencil on my binder, letting it tap and roll
off, behind the desk. I pouted, grabbed my head, and whispered, “I can’t do
this s**t. I can’t do this f*****g s**t.” I squeezed my eyes tight as I leaned over
the worksheet"my elbows now on the desk. “I’m going to fail this f*****g
class.” In my mind, I kept picturing a rejection letter from my top school
saying that I wasn’t going to be accepted because I failed this class. I just
tried to fight back the tears. I
opened my eyes, took a deep breath, and then stood up. I stretched for a
moment, feeling my blood pump through my head, then walked over to my
nightstand by my bed, creaked open the drawer, and pulled out a zippo lighter
that I’d stolen from a local sex shop when visiting with my friends. I lit it,
made sure it worked, and then put it out and into my hoodie pocket. On my way
out of my room, I grabbed a can of deodorant. I
didn’t say anything to my parents. I just got in the car and went"I’d been 18
for four months now… I was practically an adult now anyways. When
dealing with stress, I’d always turned to fire. It was warm, I liked looking at
it, and it just made me happy. Over the last few years, I found that just
seeing fire made me feel this great sense of euphoria that smoking weed or stealing
my dad’s liquor didn’t give me. Fire, by its self, was its own high. And yes, I
knew that this wasn’t a “normal” way of coping with stress. Since that night
with Dylan and Jenna at the campsite, I hadn’t really said or done much in the
way of “fire-related” activities with my friends. I was on my own. This was my
secret. Since
getting my driver’s license after turning 16, I’d found an abandoned hospital
off route 76"in the middle of the country. It was down a road that my parents
hadn’t ever taken me, and it was far enough that nobody could smell anything
suspicious. I’d often heard stories about this old hospital building"typical
hauntings and weird s**t around every corner. I, a more logical person, don’t believe
in all of that supernatural s**t. Because of the rumors though, people would
come late at night to hunt for ghosts. As a frequent visitor of this hospital,
I learned when people were most likely to break into the building and look for
s**t; I learned that when a car was parked in the lot that I shouldn’t even
bother going. On
that evening though, there wasn’t a car in the lot. I
pulled into the hospital’s parking lot at about 9:10. It was dark outside and
the only light was that of my car, which was gone as soon as I cut the engine.
I got out of the car, locked it, and went into the hospital with the lighter
and can of deodorant in my hoodie pocket.
I
walked around to the back of the building, through some tall, brown grass, to a
window that I knew had been unlocked. I pushed the window upwards and put one
foot in first, ducked my head under the pane, and pulled myself through--in I
was. I closed the window behind me… just in case. The first room of the
hospital was the kitchen. The floor was tiled in a checkered format and looked
very stereotypical. I walked through the kitchen, stepping on some broken glass,
letting it crinkle under my shoe, and proceeded through the former dining hall,
and out into a dark hallway. I
turned on my phone’s flashlight to reveal green walls and broken pictures. It
was as if the hospital was in use one day and all of a sudden, everyone just
evacuated"it always seemed very eerie. I walked down the hallway, by a bunch of
old rooms where the patients probably used to sleep, to the set of stairs,
which was behind a jammed door. Every time I wanted to go up these steps, I had
to push the door was hard as I could until it forced open. Once I am able to
force the door open, it sounds like a loud gunshot, echoing through the entire
hospital. Behind me, I hear what sounds like glass breaking. I turn around,
look around, and decide to ignore it. Upon
entering the stairwell, the door shuts behind me. I walked upstairs about three
flights and into one of the rooms. The walls had holes in them and pink
insolation seemed to be pouring out. The room had a very musty smell to it,
which reminded me of my grandfather’s old house, before he passed away. I
took a quick peek out of the window, peeling back the curtains. I could see
nothing but darkness for miles and miles. I set down my phone and knelt on the
ground, pulling out my bottle of deodorant and my lighter. I took a deep
breath, and then sprayed some of it on the white-tiled floor. Using my
zippo-lighter, I lit up the deodorant. The smell was horrible, but the
appearance was gorgeous"the flame was blue against the tiles and red as it
fought its way up. The white walls in the room, or what was left of them,
reflected the red light from the fire. I sighed and then smiled, letting the
fire die out on its own. I
stood up and sprayed some of the deodorant on the wall, near the window. I
again used my lighter and lit it. The fire was majestic as it pushed itself
upward, just barely licking the ceiling. The thing is, I thought for sure that
I had this flame under control. I wasn’t feeling panicked at all. I was feeling
completely calm. Like an artist in a gallery, I watched the flame burn. My hand
was on jugular and it almost seemed like my pulse was settling to a calming
state. I
was so amazed by this flame’s dance that I hadn’t realized that it was rubbing
up against the curtains hanging from the window. It wasn’t until I sprayed at
the flame like I had at the campsite that the flame jumped at me. It made that
same roaring sound that it did when Dylan shot me in the face. The flames were
growing much larger now. How
had I planned to put it out if the fire got too big? I was just going to hit it
until it went out. Little did I know… that method doesn’t always work. When
I noticed that the curtains were actually on fire, I stuffed my hand into my
sleeve and began to hit at the curtain in a failed attempt at putting it out.
It seemed like the fire was getting bigger each time I hit it. I backed up, for
the first time realizing that what I was doing. The curtains were lighting up
quickly. My heart began to race. “F**k!”
I shouted, dropping the can of deodorant and the zippo. I tried hitting at the
flame again. The curtains were now fully engulfed and the flame was now licking
at the insulation. The smoke from this fire began to burn my eyes. I couldn’t
help but cough. I
backed up and looked at it once more. For the first time, I felt actual terror
as the insulation in the walls lit up. My eyes widened as I realized that I’d
fucked up. I
ran out of the room and down the stairs where the smoke was beginning to creep.
I tried to use my cell phone’s flashlight to guide me out of the building, but
when I turned it on, I could only see smoke, even on the second floor. When
I reached that jammed door again on the first floor, I noticed that the smoke
wasn’t as strong... at least not yet. I pulled as hard as I could to try to get
the door open. It was as if someone on the other side wasn’t letting me pull it
open"the door was much easier to push open. I
shoved my phone in my hoodie pocket and put both of my hands on the handle,
trying to pull it open. The smoke was now coming down the stairs towards me. I
turned around and could see light from the top of the stairwell. In
what seemed like a miracle, I was finally able to force the door open, making
that same gunshot-like sound throughout the hospital. I dashed out of the
stairwell and pulled the door shut behind me to prevent the smoke from chasing
me. As
I ran down the hallway, I saw white light coming from one of the rooms. I stopped
running, and turned to look behind me. I couldn’t see any flames or any signs
of smoke. I looked ahead of me and walked by the room. I saw a boy and a girl
together"they both looked like they were in their twenties. The boy had his
left around the girl’s shoulders and his right hand held a huge flashlight. “This
is too creepy, Johnny.” The girl said. I
took a deep breath. I wanted to tell them what was happening, but for some
reason, I just couldn’t say anything. Something, deep in my gut, told me that I
should run. That I shouldn’t get caught with this. That I should run. Just get
the f**k out of there. So
that’s what I did. I took off running. I think the couple heard my footsteps,
but I don’t think they cared. I don’t know. I didn’t look back. I
ran to the kitchen. This time, I couldn’t get the window to open. I tried
pulling it up as hard as I could, but the damn thing just wouldn’t open. I took
a deep breath, covered my hand in my sleeve once again, and punched out the
glass, feeling a stinging sensation on my hand. I dived through the window and through
the weeds for my car. The
parking lot was lit up in a hue of red. As I ran towards my car, I turned
around and saw the flames pouring out of one of the windows. “F**k!” I shouted.
I
tugged on my car’s door handle and remembered that I had locked it. I
frantically pulled the keys out of my pocket and put them in the
keyhole"turning the keys left to right, left to right, just trying to remember
how to unlock my car. I eventually got it, and ripped the keys from the
keyhole. I started the engine and sped out of there as quickly as I could. I
kept looking back in my rearview mirror to see the flames burning until I
couldn’t see them any longer. I took a deep breath as I drove back into town.
My anxiety level was at a new high"was I going to get caught? Did the couple
see me? Are they okay? F**k. Why didn’t I warn them? Should I turn around now?
Damn it! I
punched the steering wheel. When
I pulled in the driveway at my house, I realized that I reeked of burnt
deodorant and smoke. I shut the car off, and reached in my backseat for my can
of deodorant. My eyes widened as I realized"I left it in the hospital. I
slapped at my hoodie pocket. The
lighter too. ------------------------------------- “I
just wish you guys didn’t arrest me at school.” I told the social worker. “That
was so embarrassing. I can’t ever go back… f**k; will I ever be able to go
back?” “I’m
not sure.” My social worker told me, “I can’t say for sure… and you haven’t been
arrested yet. They just brought you down to the station for questioning.” “Well,
you saw the news report. That couple died. They f*****g died. I murdered them!
I am a murderer! I’m at least going to go to juvie or something.” I rolled my
eyes, realizing that I was now an 18-year-old adult. “Prison,” I mumbled, “The
death penalty.” I
sat there, thinking to myself. Part of me never wanted to see another flame in
my life, while part of me wanted to burn something right now to make it feel
better. F**k it. Just f**k it. I
never set out to kill anybody. I just needed help. © 2015 CodyAuthor's Note
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Added on October 26, 2015Last Updated on December 8, 2015 Tags: Boy, YA, Short Short, Story, Short Story, Teen, Fire, Pyro, YA Fiction AuthorCodyNYAboutHi! I'm Cody, I'm 20, and I'm from New York! I hope to be an English teacher one day, as well as a famous author. This page is just a sample of my work! more..Writing
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