On Fire

• Ann Mariya Pramod, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2022

“The trees would’ve started budding if it wasn’t for you.” Mum shifted ashes with her feet looking for any plant life. The blackened earth mocks me. These trees were everything to me. She knew this.
The family forest hasn’t seen anything after the incident. But then again, it’s not every day that you turn into a phoenix and burn down the family forest. “Well Mum, it’s not my fault someone didn’t tell me about this. I could have prevented it all!” I muttered under my breath. Luckily, she didn’t hear that.

“I should have known.” She sneered. “You’re Just like your father. Irresponsible.”
“You know what? I’m done. I’m done with you. I’m done with the trees, and I’m done with everything you’ve done to me. “Tomorrow, I’m leaving. And don’t expect me to come back.”

I ran. I ran past the woods. I ran home. Can I even call it home? This wooden house holds the worst memories; walls that still hold the echoes of my cries. Memories of my head in my arms, trying to block my mother’s blows. Floors and walls were imprints of my falls. I’m free by tomorrow. But where will I go? I’ll drive but to where? All these years and I’ve been with my mother, the friends I’ve had were fog.
That’s when remembered, Dad. We didn’t have much of a relationship, I hadn’t been able to see him, and Mum had made sure of that. But I knew he would understand. I needed to hide before I could find out what to do next. He would be the escape.
After packing my things, I stayed in my bed and waited for nightfall to give me the courage to escape. In my head, it was simple to run out the door, but as my feet hit the ground, something drew me back.

The minutes in bed turned into hours, and slumber beckoned. By the time I was woken it was close to midnight. Not even a glimpse of light was visible. It was time to escape. Or so I thought.

The doorknob was shut tight. I slammed myself on the door. Still nothing. I tried the window, but it was barricaded. I knew it. It was her.
I was swallowed by my anger. My blood boiled until my veins burst. My eyes turned blazing orange. A voice in my mind begged me to stop but I couldn’t. The fire inside pushed through my skin. The wooden floorboard blackened beneath my feet and the walls of my room began to scorch. My furniture warped in the heat. Whatever control I once had fizzled away. I wasn’t human anymore. I was the phoenix.

Fire. Police. My mother’s screams. That was all that I could remember. That night was the one of most alarming nights of my life. It made me think. I’m a monster. A criminal. Some say that I mourned my mother’s death. Some say that I loved her screams. Who knows? Not me.