Flaming Garbage

1

"Hey Scud, You're looking a bit shrimpy today," called the typical class bully. It is amazing how much hurt a ten-year-old boy can cause. I ignored him on the outside, but inside I was plotting revenge. "I would love to see this school burn," I thought. People always treat me like this. I am bullied to the brink of insanity. My full name is Scud Scuddle and people give such a hard time about it.

"Scud, wake up, and get writing," Ms. Cruglenerry scolded. I sighed and shifting my backpack on my other shoulder. Her class was so boring I often fell asleep. We were writing journals about ourselves and I was almost finished.

I am much smarter than your average ten year old. I am in sixth-grade math where as everyone else is still in fourth-grade math. I am very good at writing poetry, and I am exceptional at playing the viola. None of this matters to the other kids though. They all just think of me as "The Shrimp," "Mr. Scuddle," and my least favorite, "Water Bug." I try not to let their taunts get to me, but it bothers me more than I ever let on. My mom was a limnologist, it was her idea to name me Scud. I will always despise her for it.

I don't have any friends, and my dad neglects me. I have tousled brown hair with streaks of orange and red. I have a nervous habit of pulling out the loose bits. My bangs used to hide my eyes and forehead, but my dad made me cut them. Now I have a small swoop of fiery hair.

Of course people tease me about my hair. I am rather skinny even though I eat about as much as an elephant.

I have a distinct clothing style. I only wear, red, orange, and black. Occasionally I will wear a faint bit of blue. People mock me and make fun of my clothes. Some People wear the same thing as me just to make me mad. My favorite hobby/pastime is watching the fire in our firepit. The way it flickers to the top, taunting you, asking you to touch it. THe way it's colors merge and separate creating a work of art so intricate and beautiful it makes me want to cry. The way it devours anything that gets in it's way such as logs, paper, garbage, buildings, and my mom. The way it takes hold of you bringing you into a hypnotic trance. I could watch it for hours on end. Dreaming of it's beauty and warmth.

School was finally over. I hid behind a trash can until all the buses and cars had gone, then I walked off in the opposite direction of my house. It was a bright day with little clouds. The sun shone through piercing the sky with its brilliant light. I shielded my eyes as I looked up. It was probably around four thirty and I had to be home by six. Plenty of time. I walked down the quiet street until I reached the junkyard. I felt the small box of matches in my pocket. They were probably my only friend. I gazed at them until I remembered what I was doing.

I headed to the corner where I always went. It was filled with paper people didn't recycle. I gathered as much as I could carry and plopped it down on the ground. I struck a match and threw it in. I watched as the whole pile engulfed in flames. The fire was so beautiful I felt as if I was going to throw up. I watched as it spread around causing more and more trash to go up in flames. I was in such a trance I didn't even notice the whole junk yard go into flames.

After a while I started to sweat. My trance snapped and I noticed my surroundings. Everything was in flames including my backpack and other important school stuff. In a fleeting dash I ran out of the junkyard to a safe distance. The fire started to catch on to other buildings and soon the whole neighborhood was aflame. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I shielded my eyes to keep the burning ash away from me. I ran until I could not smell the burning blaze.

I ran until I could not see, hear, or taste it. I ran until I arrived at my house.

I crept into our small apartment. My father was passed out on the couch, surrounded by empty cans of various alcohol. He was a plump man. Ever since my mom burned in the fire, he has turned to the bottle. His hair is black and matted with grease. He had stubble all along his face making him look monkey-like. I wondered why my mother even loved him in the first place. He used to have a lot of money before she died. That's probably why.

I crept to my room awaiting the sound of sirens. I knew they would trace it back to me, there was witnesses everywhere. I thought about that fire in the junkyard. It was so beautiful. I wished I could ask fire to dinner. You can't really "date" fire. I sighed into my pillow. Lovesick at ten, who would have thought. As I was dreaming I heard a knock on the door and the sound of my dad grumbling. I dove under the covers. It was a police officer. For some reason I thought of the fire that killed my mother. The fire I started.

My mom had just gotten home from work. I was in first grade at the time, and nothing bad had ever happened to me apart from bike crashes and bloody noses. My mom picked me up and whispered in my ear. "We're going to a cookout at grandma's tonight, are you excited?" In truth, I couldn't care less.

When we got to grandma's house, my mom set me down next to grandpa and left to go sunbathe with her mother on the roof. Her last words to me where, "I hope you boys have fun." I sat in the dirt by the grill and stared at a worm.

Suddenly I heard my grandpa swear loudly. I spun around in time to see a ball of fire on the grill. In that moment, something happened that changed my life. I felt a deep longing to touch the fire, to be absorbed in it, surrounded in it, to embrace it. I watched with unexplainable longing as the fire blazed and died out. "Whoops, looks like I knocked over the lighter

fluid." I stared at him in awe, I had just seen the love the of my life. He turned back around and went into the garage. I looked at the lighter fluid. I could make another fireball. I could set the whole world on fire. I stumbled over to the grill. I took the lighter fluid and dumped it everywhere in the house and outside. I took a long stick and stuck it in the grill. Sure enough it caught fire. I watched as it followed the trail of lighter fluid.

I was mesmerised by its beautiful light and flickering flames. I watched as my mom ran down the stairs screaming "Scud, SCUD!." I watched as she slipped in a puddle of lighter fluid into the fire. I watched as it started to engulf her. As she screamed I watched mesmerized by the growing fire on her clothes and in her hair. My grandpa and grandma were still upstairs, but I could hear their screams, as the fire began to swallow the whole house.