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The Burn

The Burn

     It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, with the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history.

Along in the street stood a man of 19, He was very handsome with dark chocolate brown hair, emerald green eyes, and his body was built like a football player even though he never played. His skin was dirty with black soot from the fire he set. He stood here admiring his job well done. The orphanage he grew up in was burning down. The city had gone back and forth with what to do with the broken down building, but he took matters into his own hands and burned up years of fear, anguish, and frustration. Now this man was feeling a sense of freedom come over his soul. He burned the one thing holding him back, what kept his mind most late nights and early morning. He heard the sirens in the distance and decided it was time to go.

He ran down the street until he found an alley and ducked back into the shadows. He walked a mile up this dark alley passing by others who lived here. He finally stopped when he got back to his house. He tossed the matches and kerosene into the dumpster next to him and sat down on an old blanket and some newspapers. He sat with his back against the cool brick and stared down at the concrete at his feet. The darkness around him finally ended when a female nearby lit a match and started a fire. But his gaze never left the cold hard concrete.

“Hey.” the female said. But still he didn’t look up, didn’t even acknowledge her. “Hey.” She said again this time moving closer to him. That time he snapped out of his daze and looked at her. He had never seen her here before; she was too beautiful to be here with him, with the filth.

“Hello.” he finally managed to say with what he thought was a roughest voice his body could produce.

“Hi, everything ok? You seem very, distant.” She said sitting down next to him but still giving him his space. She seemed like she was as unsure of him and he was of her.

“Yeah, just tired I guess.” He looked into her eyes which reminded him of big blue sapphires. His breath along with his mind was escaping him; all he could focus on was her eyes.

“Yeah it’s pretty late I suppose. My name is Bridgette by the way, what’s yours?” She looked at him eagerly. But all he could think of was “wow”. The feelings and thoughts all rushing through his head were new and strange. She blinked up at him but kept her eyes on him.

“um…uh..my name?” was all he could get out. He never had a hard time getting out words; his smart ass mouth landed him in more trouble than his fires and of all times for his brain and mouth to have a miscommunication. But Bridgette just giggled. This then sent a sort of thrill up his spin. He opened his mouth again and demanded his mouth to speak his name. But again all that came out was hot air.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” she said to him giggling again.

“Yes, ahem sorry…my name is Logan.” Relieved that his brain and mouth finally reconnected. “Are you new around here? I can’t recall if I have ever seen you before.”

“No I’ve been around her a few months now. I have noticed you but you looked..different so I didn’t bother you.” She said and either the faint light from the fire she started was toying with him or he saw her blush. How much different could I have been? And months? She has been her months and I never saw her. Logan looked around the alley and the people he saw near the fire he couldn’t tell if he had seen them before or not. The last few months he’s been here he had only a very few things on his mind. Like setting himself free and staying alive.

“Oh, you are no bother at all. You should have come over sooner. Why are you living down here anyway?” he asked trying to keep the conversation off himself a bit longer.

“I was orphaned when I was about 5. My parents died in a car accident. That’s what Mr. Wong told me at least. I never really thought to look into it.”

“Mr. Wong?”

“Yeah he ran the orphanage up until it closed. He was..”

“Yeah I know, I used to live in that orphanage too. I lost my parents when I was about 3 or 4 to a fire. I can’t picture you there though.”

“I kept to myself. I was really shy and I hated being there. I felt like I was trapped. And the families that came to talk to me were weird, or maybe I was just too weird for them.”

“You don’t seem weird to me.” Logan smiled at her. The two of them sat there talking the rest of the night. Logan never gave way what happened to the orphanage they once lived in. He would let her find out on his own. Tonight made Logan feel alive, awake, and human. The years he spent at that orphanage turned him into something hideous. And now that it’s gone, he could feel himself again, he had feelings; he had nice thoughts, happy thoughts even. Something with that building, with that life had changed him and made him angry. Maybe it was those weird families that came in and judged you silently never once coming back. Now his mind is filled with these new thoughts. He can now picture himself making something of himself instead of just living and dying on the streets. He found all this with the end of that building, and with Bridgette. Something about her made his stomach feel weird and his heart pound. These feelings are all so new and Logan isn’t sure what to do.

Logan and Bridgette fell asleep together near the fire she had made but forgot once they began talking. Maybe, just maybe she felt the same about Logan, like he did about her. And together the two of them could make a life for each other, outside these streets.

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