Ficlets

Arsonist is a Hero?

Orange flames began licking the back door, dancing just inside. No human emerged. The smoke alarms began screaming obnoxiously inside. The curtains at the back door lit.

The kitchen windows began glowing and sirens were barely heard in the distance. As they wailed louder, the fire found new things to consume inside and grew. I was rooted to my lawn, watching, entranced.

The fire truck sent waves of firemen to battle the blaze, they chopped inside and began spraying water everywhere. It was futile.

Movement caught my eye. The back door opened. Maybe the firemen or the ferocious fire pushed it.

A black shape scooted, slid, and rolled out of the door. It had a head! no! If the evil woman escaped it would ruin everything! I jumped the fence.
“Charlie!” screamed a voice.

I ran to the form. It was black and red, bloody, burnt, and it stopped. It did not breathe. I crouched over it.
A fireman came around the corner. “You! What are you…!” He knelt down. “She’s gone, son.” I nodded and went back to my yard.

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