To Watch it Burn

October 15, 2012
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To Watch It Burn

Slowly he walked through the house, pouring gasoline on the floor as he went. He inhaled the strong fumes of the Kerosene gas as it slowly filled the house scent. He had done this before, and every time, it gave him a huge rush of adrenaline. On the news they called him the Caron Killer. The name was based on the fact that the brand of perfume he sprayed on the walls of the house was called Caron. As he walked silently around the house, spraying the perfume every few minutes, he heard a creak from upstairs. Startled, he looked up with his heart pumping loudly. He backed up to the wall and pressed himself flat against it. A voice called out, too quiet to hear what was being said, but enough to know who was talking. It was probably the son, or uncle. It was a young man, about 17 maybe 19 at most. “Don’t think Larry, don’t think.” He whispered to himself. This was the worst part for Larry, knowing that he was about to kill someone, a human being, like himself. He usually just imagined he was in the forest again with his dad, playing around. But hearing someone was a different story. He tried convincing himself nothing was going to happen, but he could not escape the truth. He got off the wall, walked noisily to the front door. “Hello?” yelled the voice. “If there’s someone there, I’ll call the police!” Larry heard movement from other rooms and he walked faster. As he neared the door he smiled this was all a game he thought and he lit, and dropped the match.
The hiss of the lighter and the crisp smell of the autumn leafs burning around him. His father laughed and poured more accelerant onto the fire. Then suddenly, the bottle of Kerosene gasoline he was holding dropped as well as the lighter. Then the smell was horrible, and all he heard were his father’s screams, while Larry stood there, helpless, watching his father die.
Larry woke up, tired and nervous. This was the day that the forensics team did their work on the house, checking to see if the Carol Killer left any clue to who he was. He turned on the news, muted the volume and watched. He watched silently, chewing his nails and tapping his feet. There were three deaths. The house was completely burned down. He smiled and laughed nervously. Then a man, about twenty walked up to the camera and started talking. After about five minutes, a sketch artist’s picture showed up on the left side of the screen. Larry stopped breathing and unmuted the television. It showed a skinny man, with messy long brown hair. A crooked nose and a burn mark on the right side of his neck. It was him, exactly, other than the eye color; the police had it down to the pimples on his chin. Then, what happened next was even worse. “His name is Larry Brewing; he is the main suspect in the Caron Killer case and anybody with any information on his whereabouts would be extremely appreciated.”
He stumbled into his seat and turned off the TV. How did they know who he was? Did anyone survive? What should he do now? His mind raced with thoughts of being caught. He franticly threw everything he needed together and left his apartment. He got down to the garage where he kept his car and got inside. This was it, he was not going to jail. So he had to escape. He drove down town to the police station and parked his car. He took his things out and threw them onto the side walk. Nobody noticed him, just do this quickly. He thought to himself. He poured an entire bucket of gasoline into the back of his car. He revved the engine, put a brick on the gas petal and lit the match. The car drove right into the front of the station and the explosion was huge. People were thrown down by the blast and others were screaming for help. It was a success. He breathed heavily and used the adrenaline he got to start running. He was skinny, but he was fast. He ran till he got to the taxi pickup area. He hailed a cab and got inside. “I need to get to a small neighborhood quickly.” Larry said to the driver. The driver nodded his head in approval. Larry bit his nails and smiled the whole ride there.
“911 emergencies, how can I help you?”
“Yes I’m at 8th street northwest and that man you showed on the news is here and he just walked into someone’s home!”
“Thank you very much; we’ll have officers there soon.”

Larry poured the gasoline all over the floor, smiling while he was doing it. This was an addiction for him, a thrill. He had to do it. The entire family was downstairs in the basement, watching some sort of entertainment. Not suspecting a thing. He could barely contain his giggles as he sprayed the perfume on the walls. This was his favorite part, the trademark, it mattered the most to him. He finished spraying the perfume and lit the match; the family would be trapped in the basement, unable to escape, while Larry then made his getaway. “Police! Don’t move! Larry’s fantasy suddenly stopped and turned into reality. He did not expect this to happen at all.
“Did you think you could get away from all this? You killed my partner back at the police station!” one of the officers yelled. Larry felt a calm tingling feeling come over him so that he was completely relaxed. The man kept on yelling but Larry could not hear him anymore. Larry smiled and raised his hands up with the match still lit. “Put out the match Larry, you don’t want to do anymore harm then you already have.” Larry did not respond to the officers, he just stood there and stared into space, smiling.
Then he dropped the match.





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