Scar Red

10: A Metaphor For Madness

The day dawned bright and promising. Dad had gone to work, Mom was out dealing with the laundry, I was colouring and Nicholas was doing...well, whatever he was doing.

"Carina! Carina!" My brother called, he sounded really excited. "Carina! You gotta see this!" He called again.

I rolled my eyes before saying, "Fine! I'm coming."

Closing my colouring book, I stood up so I could go answer him but little did I know that heeding that call would be the worst thing I'd ever do...

He had his back on me when I made it into the kitchen.

"What is-"

"Shhh!" He cut my sentence abruptly. "Be quiet or else Mom will hear you." He said in hushed tones.

Peeking out of the window, I saw Mom just a few feet down in the backyard before returning my gaze to him. In his hands was a broomstick and his eyes had this gleam that indicated that he was up to no good.

He stooped, sliding the tip into the flames that licked at the pot and when he pulled back his hand, an orange flame lingered on it. It burned brightly, leaving a trail of ash behind in its wake. To a gullible eight-year-old, that was one of the most fantastic things I'd ever seen.

"It's so...orange," I gushed. "But Mom said not to play with fire, she said it's very dangerous," I warned.

He cracked a smile. "Oh really? Or maybe you're just scared."

"I am not!" I frowned.

"Scaredy cat!" He mocked, trying to shove the lit broomstick into me.

I took off instinctively, half hoping he wouldn't chase after but when I heard pounding footsteps behind me it dawned on me that I should've known better.

"Scaredy cat! Scaredy cat!" He teased again and again as the chase continued.

"No horseplay in the house kids!" Mom's voice resonated from outside but we were already jumping over furniture and nearly hurling things at each other.

I was angry at first because of the names he called me but broke out laughing when I thought I had outrun him for the first time 'cause he was no longer chasing me and was nowhere to be seen.

That ecstasy was short-lived however when he jumped in right in front of me, having a sinister smile and relit his broomstick whose flame had died off somewhere along our wild chase.

Yelping, I shoved him away, the force of my action causing him to drop the broomstick still lit onto the carpet which in turn caught fire instantaneously.

"Cool," Nicholas whispered at first.

I, on the other hand, didn't find it funny but the way fire moved, covering everything and anything in its path got me mesmerized to the point that my young brain didn't register that it was in any kind of danger at least not until it started becoming difficult to see and it had become like an inferno.

I screamed Nicholas's name amidst the chaos. He was a few feet in front, coughing persistently, only looking up when he must've heard my voice. He reached out his hand in my direction while beams, part of the ceiling were coming off every which way, burning as they fell.

I struggled to grasp his hand and at that moment when I almost had it, a huge burning chunk of the ceiling collapsed on me. I yelled out in agony as it scalded my flesh whilst trying to push it off me. I couldn't breathe nor could I stop coughing. The entire room had gone up in flames then.