Have you found yourself stuck in the middle of a particularly bad writer's block? Need a dose of inspiration? Or are you simply looking for some creativity to kick-start your newest novel? Then look no further!
Paranormal Prompts aims to bring you w...
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Welcome to our newest prompt! Remember that our prompts can be interpreted as literally or as figuratively as you want. For more information, check out our guidelines below.
PICTURE PROMPT:
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WINNERS:
Please note that winners are not listed in any specific order. You can find the rest of the fiery entries in the comments below!
The only conscious thought in my mind was, 'I felt fire'. I wasn't on fire mind you but I felt it. I felt the heat like a warm embrace wrapping around me. Like a tiny little life form. It was glorious. For so long the doctors had called me a phyromanic but I wasn't. Pyromaniacs don't feel the fire every time they light a match. No. They like destruction but this, this was life.
For a phonix must burn to be reborn. Thats all I was doing here. Burning. Or rather smouldering.
Grabbing one of my fathers numerous beer bottles I sloshed the stuff all over the living room carpet. Then the kitchen and then the two rooms it n the house – mine and my parents. The heavy stench of the alchol hit my nose but I continued on with my job. Sloshing and spreading.
Finally when my house was drenched I stood back. Stood outside. The forest right behind my back. I had a small bag with me. From the bag I pulled out the lighter that I kept.
Flicking the switch a tempremental little spark shot up and soon I saw the flame. Soon I felt it. In my bones and under my skin, burning like seven suns. Like a warm summer day.
Savouring the feeling I tossed the lighter into the house. It lit on fire immeadiately and I let out a soft sigh of satisfaction.
I didn't care about the reprecussions of my actions when my parents came home. By then I'd be long gone and by the time my parents bothered to look for me, I'd be 3 towns over. How blissful.
Watching the flames for a good 10 minutes I watched as my house burned to the ground and suddenly the little voice at the back of my head was satisfied. Satisfied enough to stop chanting the words, "Burn it! Burn!"
Oh how wonderful it was to be reborn from the ashes.
The sky was frighteningly dark. So bleak and devilish that the woman was sure only a divine being held the power capable of piercing its veil. It loomed high above her head and yet it felt confining, like the weight of its presence was crushing her under its emptiness.
This nightmarish, timeless void felt animated. Alive, even. A soft, warm breeze carried a stench most foul, and moved unlike any gust she had ever felt before. When she closed her eyes to concentrate on it, she could feel the wind rush away from her and then all at once encompass her once more. Like she was standing in a lung.
Sound was a mystery, as well. Hearing almost nothing but the noise of her own shaky breath and a baritone chuckle that held the melody of a distantly beating drum. When she awoke --hours, days, maybe weeks ago-- her confused wails for help seemed to fuel the laughter. Fanning the kindling to an all out roar of playful, dancing flames.
It was those flames she could see now; glowing against the night sky and setting her on a course. It called to her like a siren to sailor. Though the fire had been distant, once she had set in pursuit of it, the horizon anxiously rushed forward to greet her.
Waves of heat pulsed off the proud fire, boasting its strength as it stripped walls of paint and ate greedy bites out of the wooden structure. It took only a second to recognize the house as home. The fire languidly licked the siding, savouring the taste like ice cream melting from the cone.
From the flames emerged a familiar figure, one she had maneuvered around in the dark more times than she could count. Air left her lungs as she choked back a sob that threatened. When she recognized the charred figure of her fiance beckoning with outstretched arms, she knew without question where she was… indefinitely.
His scorched, blistered skin cracked as he smiled sickeningly. It crinkled the hollow grooves where his eyes used to reside, but had since melted away.
My crooked fingers are bruised and stained red as they tremble uncontrollably. The crimson fluid drips off my fingertips in a satisfyingly slow manner as it splatters against the wood. The metallic scent of blood is almost drowned out by the strong smell of kerosene in the air. The fuel has all but soaked the wooden planks that make up this dreadful house. My thoughts are filled with satisfaction as I light the match. A small spark of fire springs to life and I watch it grow with a sinister smile plastered across my face. I feel no remorse as I drop it and walk away, leaving nothing but dear and destruction behind me.
I must have walked a good distance when I decide to turn around and watch. Nothing feels better than watching your enemies burn. Nothing is more satisfying than quenching your thirst for vengeance. The heat that I had felt on my back is no longer there as I decide to face the result of my actions. Straight ahead, where there once stood a wooden house, now lies a flaming mass of wood. All the furniture that the man hoarded has done him no favours, I reckon.
Never before has fire appeared as beautiful to me as it does now. It dances like a fiery fiend as it glows in wondrous shades of red and gold. Nothing has ever appeared so magnificent. It is when I'm drowning in this morbid fascination that I notice something out of place. For a fire so big and bright, surely I should be seeing no black on the burning house? Especially not when the door was the first to burn out. That is when I realize that it is no charred wood that I am seeing. It is the silhouette of a man, and it only grows larger as he steps further away from the blazing house.
No! It cannot be! I stabbed him with my very own blade as it gleamed in the moonlight. I smothered him as he bled out- watched as the life died out from his eyes and his breath stopped coming. I know he died back there before I set his corpse aflame, but if he died, then who is this?
