Joe watched the hungry flames as they licked around the frames
and walls, spreading wildly and quickly, crackling fiercely; his artwork
twisting, lapping, dancing high into the night sky. He couldn't hang around for
long as the flames would be an invitation for the firemen and police despite
the building being dilapidated, forgotten and condemned; he was just saving
them time and money and enjoying his work at the same time, even if no one else
appreciated his efforts in tidying up the neighbourhood from squatters and
their misuse of vacant houses. The fire was alive as the old, wooden house
behind it was barely visible, as the flames fed on the rotting timbers sending
a plume of thick smoke swirling into the sky and even though Joe was drawn to
the flames like a moth, he knew it was time to leave.
Joe knew there would
be no more squatters blighting his neighbourhood because he knew the house wasn’t
empty as he had sent out fliers about a party and had watched them all turn up
before setting the place alight for his own party. Sitting in his armchair,
grinning with satisfaction, Joe picked up a copy of the flier he had made,
admiring his handy work, turning it over in his hand and seeing a familiar handwritten
note scrawled on the back made him wretch violently; Dad, gone to this party, pick me up at
midnight, love J.
5 sentence fiction is hosted by the lovely Lillie Mcferrin. There are amazing stories here you can read by amazing writers and remember, all stores are only five sentences. it's amazing what you can get from five sentences. xxx
