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Description
Cameron Siatkowski
March 12, 2011

Firebug

The flames were immense, and they burned ravenously in all directions. The windows were shattered as if a large explosion had gone off inside each of the rooms. Tattered remains of toys and furniture were laid to waste; all were reduced to rubble. The family to which the home had belonged was unharmed, but they continued to huddle in sadness a few metres away on the sidewalk. The house fell later that night.

The next morning, I searched through the blackened remains of the home, desperate to find the cause, I found none. There were some frayed wires, but nothing really out of the ordinary so I dismissed it and called it as an accident.

"Seventeen house fires in last month! I can't fucking believe we haven't found the man responsible for this!" shouted Jack Oblovski from across the office.
He was right to think such things; this was arson, it's barbaric! Alas, I was just as lost as him. I just wished I could predict where the arsonist would strike next.

Joey Haze was my best friend ever since we were children; he worked in the same office building as me and we had been partners in a few cases in the past and I intended to make him a part of this one. I decided to ask him to take a lunch break with me in order to discuss things. I drove over to the coffee house on the corner of GREEN and LINDI; the best coffee house in the city. We sat down and I figured I'd start casual.
"How's your wife?"
"Oh, you know Henry, the usual, she's doing just fine. We have a baby on the way."
"Wow, that's really exciting, congratulations!"
"Yeah, I guess it is." he replied with a smile.
"Anyway, Joey, I'd like to talk to you about the recent fires. Would you like to be on the case with me?"
"No offense Henry, but ever since my sister was killed by the fire that burned down my house when I was young, I tend to stay away from fires."
"I understand. Alright, well, would you still help me when some new evidence is found?"
"Yeah, I guess, sure I'll help."
He didn't seem too sure about his answer; I guess he was really traumatized by the experience.

It was winter, I hated winter; it always brought out the worst in me. The harsh cold and the blasted snow never did anyone good and I just wanted it to go away. Everywhere I looked; there was an endless blanket of white, crystalline snow. Ghastly.

On my way back to my apartment, I passed by another house fire. It was a larger house; which meant larger flames. Although I drove by it, an insane compulsion within me kept telling me to turn around. In the middle of the road, I cranked the wheel to the left and drove back to the burning structure and the sirens. Since I wasn't called for the fire, I figured I could simply search the surrounding grounds.
I ran around to the back of the house, only to find a small cul-de-sac of about a dozen houses. I caught a glimpse of a pair of shining spectacles in one of the windows. I decided to knock on the door and ask if they had seen anyone set the fire. Five knocks and few loud howls later; there was no answer. I took a few steps back to look at the window again, the inhabitant was gone. I rushed to the back of the home to search the yard for anyone trying to flee the scene. Nothing; I dashed frantically back to the door and slammed on it a few more times. Suddenly, I heard a creek from a dark corridor on the side of the house and I ran over to check it out. A man was standing about five metres from me wearing a black trench coat, wearing the hood. His face seemed rather young and he wore an odd pair of sunglasses; the kind you would see, the famous, Three Blind Mice wearing. They were small, dark, and circular. He spoke:
"Isn't it beautiful?"
He spoke in slow and polite manner. This threw me; as one would possibly assume: an insane arsonist would not speak like this.
"Who are you? Did you set this fire?" I stumbled to ask.
But, just as I was addressing him, he stepped backward into the shadows and with superhuman speed; he leapt the fence and was gone. When I turned around, Joey was standing behind me.
"Who the hell was that? Was he the punk-ass firebug who has been doing this?"
"I believe it was, Joey. I'm going to track him, do not worry."
I was surprised at the calmness I portrayed, even after witnessing such an unearthly character.

The next morning, there was a dense fog laid low on the surface of our plate of Earth, all movement seemed treacherous; but I had to find this wrongdoer. I drove back to the cul-de-sac where the first encounter had taken place. This time, I had a warrant to search the home. There were charred surfaces all over the place. One room was completely black with soot. I came across a wall plastered with newspapers. They were of all the fires he had started around the city. I noticed one in particular; it was Joey's house. How could this young man have started the fire that had happened so long ago? I also found a list of addresses on the table; most were crossed out, but there were still some left. I called in an investigation crew and I left with the list and sought out to find Joey.

Joey was back at the office, pushing pencils.
"Joey, I have something to tell you. But, first, I think I know where the arsonist will strike next. I'll explain on the way."
We hurried out to my car, a 1978 Buick Skyhawk; it was kind of old, but it was damn fast. When I felt as though we were closing in on the residence, I told him.
"Okay, Joey, remember the fire when you were little? I believe this guy had something to do with it."
"What do you mean? That happened over 20 years ago! How could he have started it?"
"I don't know, but before we capture him, I will be sure to ask him about it; got it?
"Yeah..."
I felt bad reminding him of such a horrible time in his life, but he had the right to know.

As we approached the target house, it exploded. Shattered glass was scattered all over the pavement and I accidentally drove over a few large pieces; a tire quickly deflated.

"Fuck, now how are we going to get him?" exclaimed Joey, obviously not making the situation any better.
"I don't know, c'mon, let's check it out."
I ran up to the door, with gun in hand, and I bashed the door open with my foot. I heard a door slam from somewhere near the back of the house. The freak had obviously been reveling in the "beautiful" destruction he had created. We pursued him until we reached an empty parking lot where he had stopped and turned to us, apparently tired from the chase.
"Stop, don't go any further!"
"I didn't plan too. I see you've brought an old friend to meet Me." he spoke in a sickeningly arrogant tone.
"Damn right, you killed my sister! Now I'm going to kill you!"
Joey was really upset, but it was no time to let his emotions let loose. I had to stop him before he did something dangerous. But, just before I could speak, he began sprinting at the villain with his gun in hand. Joey was suddenly engulfed in angry flames. He fell to the ground in a ball form and slid on the pavement until all motion was lost.
"You mother fucker! How did you do that?" I screamed while rushing to Joey's aid.
I was too late; he had been charred to a blackened crisp as if he'd been covered in some sort of napalm jelly. Impossible.
"Darn shame; I really didn't want to kill him."
He spoke in a sincere manner, but I guess he couldn't hold his tongue because soon after, he had burst into a fit of maniacal laughter. I lunged at him, but he split into shadows and escaped my grasp. I drew my gun and fired a few rounds into his torso; he fell after a few seconds of staggering aimlessly. I rushed over to him and searched his person. I found a Zippo and a few dollars.
"Who are you and why have you been starting these horrendous fires?" I asked while shaking him by his coat.
He laughed and coughed up bits of blood.
"It seems you've compromised my human body. No matter, I will find another."
He removed his peculiar shades, exposing eyes with white irises, then the body began to shake violently and slowly, a dark shadow started to emerge from the blood stained mouth.
"Oh, no you won't!"
I quickly covered the opening and shot the rest of my clip into the body, hoping that if the body was dead, then the demonic entity wouldn't be able to recover; it was connected to its host after all. It seemed to work as I observed the former white irises return to the original brown.

They say they never saw anything like the description I gave them of the shadow during the autopsy. That was comforting; I wouldn't know what to do if it had escaped and claimed another human to do its unholy bidding. Joey's funeral was on the following Sunday, and all I could do in the meantime was send my regards to his wife and return to the office.
Months had passed and there weren't any fires, except the occasional kitchen fire; but this was a city, you've got to expect anything.

Description
Cameron Siatkowski
March 12, 2011

Firebug

The flames were immense, and they burned ravenously in all directions. The windows were shattered as if a large explosion had gone off inside each of the rooms. Tattered remains of toys and furniture were laid to waste; all were reduced to rubble. The family to which the home had belonged was unharmed, but they continued to huddle in sadness a few metres away on the sidewalk. The house fell later that night.

The next morning, I searched through the blackened remains of the home, desperate to find the cause, I found none. There were some frayed wires, but nothing really out of the ordinary so I dismissed it and called it as an accident.

"Seventeen house fires in last month! I can't fucking believe we haven't found the man responsible for this!" shouted Jack Oblovski from across the office.
He was right to think such things; this was arson, it's barbaric! Alas, I was just as lost as him. I just wished I could predict where the arsonist would strike next.

Joey Haze was my best friend ever since we were children; he worked in the same office building as me and we had been partners in a few cases in the past and I intended to make him a part of this one. I decided to ask him to take a lunch break with me in order to discuss things. I drove over to the coffee house on the corner of GREEN and LINDI; the best coffee house in the city. We sat down and I figured I'd start casual.
"How's your wife?"
"Oh, you know Henry, the usual, she's doing just fine. We have a baby on the way."
"Wow, that's really exciting, congratulations!"
"Yeah, I guess it is." he replied with a smile.
"Anyway, Joey, I'd like to talk to you about the recent fires. Would you like to be on the case with me?"
"No offense Henry, but ever since my sister was killed by the fire that burned down my house when I was young, I tend to stay away from fires."
"I understand. Alright, well, would you still help me when some new evidence is found?"
"Yeah, I guess, sure I'll help."
He didn't seem too sure about his answer; I guess he was really traumatized by the experience.

It was winter, I hated winter; it always brought out the worst in me. The harsh cold and the blasted snow never did anyone good and I just wanted it to go away. Everywhere I looked; there was an endless blanket of white, crystalline snow. Ghastly.

On my way back to my apartment, I passed by another house fire. It was a larger house; which meant larger flames. Although I drove by it, an insane compulsion within me kept telling me to turn around. In the middle of the road, I cranked the wheel to the left and drove back to the burning structure and the sirens. Since I wasn't called for the fire, I figured I could simply search the surrounding grounds.
I ran around to the back of the house, only to find a small cul-de-sac of about a dozen houses. I caught a glimpse of a pair of shining spectacles in one of the windows. I decided to knock on the door and ask if they had seen anyone set the fire. Five knocks and few loud howls later; there was no answer. I took a few steps back to look at the window again, the inhabitant was gone. I rushed to the back of the home to search the yard for anyone trying to flee the scene. Nothing; I dashed frantically back to the door and slammed on it a few more times. Suddenly, I heard a creek from a dark corridor on the side of the house and I ran over to check it out. A man was standing about five metres from me wearing a black trench coat, wearing the hood. His face seemed rather young and he wore an odd pair of sunglasses; the kind you would see, the famous, Three Blind Mice wearing. They were small, dark, and circular. He spoke:
"Isn't it beautiful?"
He spoke in slow and polite manner. This threw me; as one would possibly assume: an insane arsonist would not speak like this.
"Who are you? Did you set this fire?" I stumbled to ask.
But, just as I was addressing him, he stepped backward into the shadows and with superhuman speed; he leapt the fence and was gone. When I turned around, Joey was standing behind me.
"Who the hell was that? Was he the punk-ass firebug who has been doing this?"
"I believe it was, Joey. I'm going to track him, do not worry."
I was surprised at the calmness I portrayed, even after witnessing such an unearthly character.

The next morning, there was a dense fog laid low on the surface of our plate of Earth, all movement seemed treacherous; but I had to find this wrongdoer. I drove back to the cul-de-sac where the first encounter had taken place. This time, I had a warrant to search the home. There were charred surfaces all over the place. One room was completely black with soot. I came across a wall plastered with newspapers. They were of all the fires he had started around the city. I noticed one in particular; it was Joey's house. How could this young man have started the fire that had happened so long ago? I also found a list of addresses on the table; most were crossed out, but there were still some left. I called in an investigation crew and I left with the list and sought out to find Joey.

Joey was back at the office, pushing pencils.
"Joey, I have something to tell you. But, first, I think I know where the arsonist will strike next. I'll explain on the way."
We hurried out to my car, a 1978 Buick Skyhawk; it was kind of old, but it was damn fast. When I felt as though we were closing in on the residence, I told him.
"Okay, Joey, remember the fire when you were little? I believe this guy had something to do with it."
"What do you mean? That happened over 20 years ago! How could he have started it?"
"I don't know, but before we capture him, I will be sure to ask him about it; got it?
"Yeah..."
I felt bad reminding him of such a horrible time in his life, but he had the right to know.

As we approached the target house, it exploded. Shattered glass was scattered all over the pavement and I accidentally drove over a few large pieces; a tire quickly deflated.

"Fuck, now how are we going to get him?" exclaimed Joey, obviously not making the situation any better.
"I don't know, c'mon, let's check it out."
I ran up to the door, with gun in hand, and I bashed the door open with my foot. I heard a door slam from somewhere near the back of the house. The freak had obviously been reveling in the "beautiful" destruction he had created. We pursued him until we reached an empty parking lot where he had stopped and turned to us, apparently tired from the chase.
"Stop, don't go any further!"
"I didn't plan too. I see you've brought an old friend to meet Me." he spoke in a sickeningly arrogant tone.
"Damn right, you killed my sister! Now I'm going to kill you!"
Joey was really upset, but it was no time to let his emotions let loose. I had to stop him before he did something dangerous. But, just before I could speak, he began sprinting at the villain with his gun in hand. Joey was suddenly engulfed in angry flames. He fell to the ground in a ball form and slid on the pavement until all motion was lost.
"You mother fucker! How did you do that?" I screamed while rushing to Joey's aid.
I was too late; he had been charred to a blackened crisp as if he'd been covered in some sort of napalm jelly. Impossible.
"Darn shame; I really didn't want to kill him."
He spoke in a sincere manner, but I guess he couldn't hold his tongue because soon after, he had burst into a fit of maniacal laughter. I lunged at him, but he split into shadows and escaped my grasp. I drew my gun and fired a few rounds into his torso; he fell after a few seconds of staggering aimlessly. I rushed over to him and searched his person. I found a Zippo and a few dollars.
"Who are you and why have you been starting these horrendous fires?" I asked while shaking him by his coat.
He laughed and coughed up bits of blood.
"It seems you've compromised my human body. No matter, I will find another."
He removed his peculiar shades, exposing eyes with white irises, then the body began to shake violently and slowly, a dark shadow started to emerge from the blood stained mouth.
"Oh, no you won't!"
I quickly covered the opening and shot the rest of my clip into the body, hoping that if the body was dead, then the demonic entity wouldn't be able to recover; it was connected to its host after all. It seemed to work as I observed the former white irises return to the original brown.

They say they never saw anything like the description I gave them of the shadow during the autopsy. That was comforting; I wouldn't know what to do if it had escaped and claimed another human to do its unholy bidding. Joey's funeral was on the following Sunday, and all I could do in the meantime was send my regards to his wife and return to the office.
Months had passed and there weren't any fires, except the occasional kitchen fire; but this was a city, you've got to expect anything.