A Guilty Scream

Some things in life are not as they seem. Not everyone says what needs to be said, or does what needs to be done. It is a shame what it destroys. This in no way can explain it all, but it's a start.

I sat there as it happened. As if I were some helpless and ignorant animal. I was frozen with fear. Yet I can still barely even bare to write what I have allowed to happen, and it doesn’t even matter what I tell myself. I have said that I could not help them, and that they were dead before I ever even knew.

It matters little how many lies I tell myself to free me from my guilt. My empty liquor cabinet alone stands to testify that my lies have no effect. Surely I am damned, for I watched as that fire consumed the two lovers. I watched as the flames burned until nothing was left.

For months now I had watched that flame creep towards them, day by day moving closer. Yet I did nothing to save them. I just looked on, telling myself that nothing was wrong. Now I know the wrongs I did, for the demons taunt me even now in my suffering. They will not let me forget what I have allowed to happen; that the two lovers died because of me.

I must confide that I only truly understand the passion of one of the lovers. I know that he loved her, the man told me this often. I will not pretend to understand the woman’s feelings though. She confided in me so few times before the fire reached them. Despite what relief it might give me to believe something else; I do not believe that she lied about her feelings, not even once. I believe she truly loved him, just as much if not more than he loved her.

It matters not what they felt for each other now, for by my hand I have killed them. Of the damage dealt to the two, I have only seen what has happened to the man. Whose charred corpse barely resembled the prideful man he truly was; rather, the body is that of a child; terrified and alone. 

I haven’t dared to examine the woman’s corpse. Though I know she was, by far, stronger than the man; it is her very strength that gives me such terrible fear and anxiety. For I believe she was burned far worse than he. I fear just as much, that before the fire took their last breaths from them, that she blamed herself for the tragedy at hand.

I would give anything now, to tell her that it was not her fault. To scream at the top of my lungs that it was I that caused their ruin. What’s more, I would give everything to go back to the time that I started the fire; so that I might put out that dangerous flame before it had destroyed so much, before it had so completely consumed them.

Alas, I did not; and my musings of the subject bring me nothing but tears and further sorrow. I know that nothing can make things right, nor can I say anything to make things go back to the way they were. Yet I find myself screaming to all who will listen; that it is I who started the fire. No one else is responsible for the death of the two. I am guilty beyond all doubt; and I will be damned if I leave any believing it was her fault.

~Connor Cimboy Trequn~

Reviews

[alanwgraham]

You have built a very intriguing story. At first you are led to believe that it was real flames that consumed the lovers , but then you start to question. It seems that the fire is a metaphor for the mischief that you have initiated and now you must live with the guilt! I think its good that you haven't given too much away.
Well done,
Allan

[Elliott Thomas]

Very strong dark stuff, Intense! I like your prose. Thumbs up!