Letter For the Arsonist

"Charlie," it read, the script upon the paper was well rounded and perfectly written. 

"When I saw the fire burning from my window, I just had to see it for myself,"  I paused and looked at the house next door.  From the outside, it looked like a normal house, with the siding neatly washed, and a yard that was meticulously cut.  The laundry hung out to dry, and the sound of sheets flapping aimlessly in the breeze sounded like a well stoked fire. 

'The girl with the eyes," I thought. 
I continued to read, as I felt a yearning ache in my stomach; excitement, even longing.

"I want to see more, Charlie.  I want to see the biggest fire you have ever made.  I want to be there.  With you.  Together. 

"Tonight, I will be watching.  You will never be alone again."

It was signed, "Wendy"

A voice from next door startled me.

"TIBBY, get in here this instant. I'll not have you being a peeper,"
It was Mrs. Hamlock.  Probably drunk again.

That is when I notice the ebony eyes through the fence as the young girl turned away and scurried back into the house; her PJ's and socks muddied from the dewy grass.

"Quit, gawking, boy!" Mrs. Hamlock shouted, and I started.
"I.. I... I'm not Mrs. Hamlock, I swear, I just..."
"Oh quit your stammerin'," the fat cow turned away and locked the door as she entered.

I frowned and was deeply saddened for Wendy.  Funny how I'd never noticed her before today.
Tonight I would be watching for her.

The End

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