Pyromantic

Spitfire, Meet Literal Fire

    The bonfire roared in front of you, engulfing all in front of it. You let a sigh of relief leave your lips as the heat and smell washed over you. The smell of wood smoke was the best, and then when you tossed in different materials it got better. The sound was glorious as well, the crackle and sizzle provided such a comforting white noise.

Ultimately, though, the way the flames looked was always indescribable. The hypnotic colorful dance of flames was your therapy. You loved the warmth of the red and orange hues, but the cooler, greens, blues, and occasional purple that showed up were a pleasant surprise.

Above all else, you loved the science of fire. It amazed you how something that had no actual tangible form was still so destructive and visible. It fascinated you, and it was also how you dealt with most stress, or anger, or joy, or really any emotion.

According to the psychiatrists and the state, you were a pyromaniac.

You preferred fire enthusiast, or just pyro. Adding 'maniac' , made it seem you were crazy, and you didn't think you were. You had a healthy and controlled fire affinity. You hadn't hurt anyone- except once or twice yourself, from curiosity, not negligence- and you had yet to burn down any body's property by accident.

And besides, you really only needed a fire this big when it was an especially bad day. Which, today had been just that. The people at work had been bad, and you had gotten a call from your parents, just a regular call to see how you were doing, but then it took a turn for the worse when they questioned how you were doing. Inquiring about your mental health and your love life.

"Ugh," you stated outloud to yourself. "That sums up this day. Ugh ."

You sat back looking at the fire, just admiring the simple complexity of it all. The only way this would have been better is if the wind wasn't so damn cold.

Being on the outskirts of town, you weren't very worried about being found and possibly called in by the police. No one ever came out here, and it was an abandoned farm house, who was going to miss it if somehow it caught on fire and burned down?

Of course, that wouldn't happen on your watch. As before mentioned, you were very safe, observant, and careful.

Just then, the wind had shifted, and some embers lept onto a pile of dried wood. It started to catch, but quickly you stamped it out. Sighing contently at your good safety procedure, but realized a bit too soon that the fire was worse now.

An intense amount of heat hit the side of your face, it didn't burn or singe you, but it alerted you that the ceiling had begun to catch on fire, but the dry air and lack of recent rain allowed it to spread rather fast.

"Oh, fuck me," you cursed as you snatched up your stuff and then ran outside to the front. "Shit."

The light of the fire was getting brighter and brighter as the flames devoured the decrepit house. In the distance, you heard a siren blare. "Fuck!"

You had walked to the farmhouse, as per usual, because you didn't live that far from it, and it helped to calm you. But right now you needed to get out of there!

You began running towards your house, then turned around, running in the other direction when you realized that the siren was coming from that way. Maybe you could just go the long way around? Yeah, that seemed like the best plan of action! It would take longer, but you wouldn't get caught.

Woooh

Spoke too soon.

The highway patrol was coming up from the side road, and they had seen you in their high beams. You were frozen like a deer in headlights.