One woman's journey to cleanse the world of wrong

"I remember it being said that fire is the purest of deaths - As I sit here, in my battered, stained, formerly creme coloured, arm chair, I can't help but imagine the fire lick across the stone floor and engulf the seat.

It isn't out of some sick pleasure, or want of death, that I sit here thinking of burning - But rather a mild curiosity. A childish need-to-know attitude that has me thinking "would it hurt that much?" or "I wonder how long it would take before I become nothing but a crispy husk?"

I have friends that have an obsession with flames. I won't pretend to share it, there is something quite uneasy about open flames. They look so playful, so harmless - But they aren't an undercover siren, trying to entice you to come closer. I wouldn't even describe a fire as deliberately destructive - I would put it in the same category as lightning, something that just happens.

So what is about to happen to you is hardly even deliberate, but more so a coming together of natural events, a series of moments that have lead to this one.

Are you afraid of fire? I don't think fire should be feared, it has no control over itself. It is like an impulsive drunk in a bar, it consumes and consumes and consumes until there is nothing left. 

What should be feared is the person that starts the fire, they're the ones with a problem - The fire simply burns when it is told, a firestarter is someone that tells the fire to consume. 

Do you understand?"

A half muffled scream was the response. 

"Screaming won't get you anywhere. You're sitting in a barn, a hundred miles from the nearest building, tied to a post with nothing but your dignity to keep you warm. 

That will change soon enough though.

You should really just embrace the situation. Think to yourself, how many people really experience something this enthralling? I can promise you, not many."

The man tried to squirm beneath the heavy chains.

"Oh now that won't do you any good, they're chains, it's not some flimsy rope I have you tied with. I spared no expense here, Jacob. I hope you don't mind if I have my yogurt though? I skipped lunch and I am famished!"

The man just continued to struggle.

"I'll take that as a no. I hope you realize it is really nothing personal, some questions just need answering. Oh, what's that? What questions need answering? 

Well, Jacob, I am afraid I simply do not have enough time to give you a sufficient answer. Or, well, rather you do not have enough time."

It was only now the man noticed the steady, rainbow coloured, petrol river that ran from his feet to that of his captors. His struggling became very violent.

"What would you fear more; me tossing this match, after lighting it of course, onto your little human pyre, or leaving you here to starve? 

It's a very tough choice, isn't it? I'm not sure which I would rather. A slow, painful death - But apparently a pure one. Or the slower, more painful death, but it offers some chance of rescue - Even if it is very slim. 

I suppose you would probably pick the latter, right? Anything for an oppourtunity to take another breath. 

Listen Jacob, if it makes you feel any better, I'll be sure to tell the lovely Mrs. Jacob exactly where she can find your ashes, and that you made a totally selfless sacrifice in the name of the sciences. 

But I really must be hurrying along, so without further ado, lets get this show on the road."

The captor stroked the match against it's box, the flame flickered and danced at its freedom, and with a flick of a wrist the flame was gone again. The relief showed on the captives face. 

"Oh don't look so happy Jacob, I simply forgot to turn the recorder on - And something like this needs to be documented."

The man began to scream again, he struggled against the chains but they resisted his fight.

He was rewarded when the gag fell from his mouth, leaving him a moment to plea - "Please! Please ma'am! You don'ave to do this! Please let me go! I d'un nothing wrong!"

The red light flashed as the camera came to life. "That might be true Jacob, but I can't account for what you will do - And so I am purifying you from any future crimes. You should really thank me."

She swiftly lit a second match, and let it fall into the petrol - It moved so quickly along the fuel that Jacob's feet were engulfed within seconds.

The woman sat back down in the chair, yogurt in hand, and watched as the man screamed and squirmed against the heat.

"Now this is what I call a hot show," she cackled to herself as she ate the yogurt, "it's a real slow burner."

The End

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