Weekly Challenge #4

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I know its late but I've been battling the flu. But I hope you've been using the extra time for the monthly challenge. This week I give you a phrase with obvious meaning but I want you to find a metaphysical or lateral meaning to it in your writing, of if you have something epic for the obvious meaning I won't stop you.

This week's topic: Going to let it burn.
<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>Not sure how long these are supposed to be, but here is my go at it.

George was the happiest man alive. He had a beautiful wife, three wonderful children and a pet dog. His house had a white picket fence and he owned an expensive luxury car. His neighbours were perfect; they were friendly, never caused problems and always greeted him with a smile and a hearty hello. Even his job allowed him to provide for his family, save for college tuition and go on week long vacations.
There were only two things wrong with George's life. The first was that he couldn't move. The second was that the world around him was on fire and there was nothing he could do about it. He could only watch as it slowly burned away all around him, and up until that final moment when the photograph winked from existence, George was the happiest man alive.​
She was everything a girl should be, all hips, breasts, curves in all the right places. A hair never out of place and make-up done so well it that it was almost professional. An attitude to match her looks and envy of all the girls, and wet dreams for all the guys.

But she was not single.

She wasn't taken, though, either.

Floating somewhere in the confusion of adultery, she sifted in and out of secret trysts. Her beauty sealed the lips of those who had her, and it was never talked about if you had a chance to be there in her bed. In her own mind, there was no wrong she was committing, and nothing she was doing seemed like it would hurt him.

But the day all of her secrets came undone and her lies exposed, rope came out and like a flash, she was tied to the bed, liquid splashed over her, smelling something foul. And then a quiet hiss as a match was drawn, the man drew up a chair, sitting in it with the back of the chair pressed against his chest as he gently flicked the small sliver of wood and flame and made her into a screaming light show.

Skin blistering and blackening, odors of heated flesh, hair that caught light quickly, fabric going up in smoke. Where the perfection once was, destruction was left behind. He sat there and watched her demise, with no emotion on his face. If she could not respect or understand simple social conduct, then she was trash.

And who was he to put out the fire when it only affected something worthless that he could do without?

He hadn't cared that the fire department was called, or that they burst through the house. He didn't care when they hauled him out in cuffs. When they questioned him, his simple reply?

"I was just going to let it burn."
Going to Let it burn

No matter how bad it hurt, he was going to let it burn. Turning back now would only throw gas on the fire, every second he spent away from her was like a slow, painful healing sensation. That bitch, that rotten deceitful bitch. In the grand scheme of things it really didn't matter, but at this moment in time, on this rainy Sunday after noon, it sure as hell felt like it did.

As a particularly cold November rain feel from the sky, the man clad in all black walked towards his future. Every step he took away from her was like a breath of fresh air. His life with her had been like a cyclone. A hate filled storm of negativity and hostility. Yet he still felt as if someone had stabbed him through the heart with a poisoned knife. It was infesting and twisting his guts like a bad bowl of chili. Sometimes, the worst situations can be the hardest to walk away from. The way he saw it, he had two choices: Turn back now and suffer or deal without he pain, yup, he was going to let it burn.
The flames danced before his eyes as he set another tree on fire. Back in the early days when he had gotten his powers, he had been subtle about his destruction. He lit a sign in protest or a tree in anger, but now, he didn't care. Now he let the world know when he wanted something to burn. He burnt forests and bridge. He isolated himself, and one day, he set himself on fire.

As he realized that his own destruction was the only way to be truly satisfy, he was going to let it burn. Within a few hours, nothing could be seen and standing in his place was a younger man full of life and with a fire in him. When he would awake to his savior, he was going to let it burn them.

After all that was what he did best. He let it burn.
There was a time when the thought of running ten feet would have horrified her, but no more. Now she was training for her first iron man triathlon and she spent a lot of time out on the road, between the running and the biking.

Some days she couldn't believe how far she'd come, thinking back to that first 5K run that had felt like it was going to kill her, literally. But then 5K became a bit too easy and she was pushing for more of a challenge so she ran her fist 10K. That too had felt like the end of the world at the time, but those soon became second nature, and almost like training. So then she pushed for a marathon. The first time she failed and could not complete it. But the second she had finished.

Now, marathon was part of a longer race that challenged your endurance in many other ways, with an open water swim and them biking and then last the marathon. She sure had come a long way. Now she let it burn, and even embraced the burn because it meant growth.
Mateo stood in front of the shack, the smell of gasoline stiff in his nose. Behind him, he could feel Amanda waiting with her usual impatience, her eyes boring into the back of his head. He finished off the red tankard of gasoline, his gut clenching into knots, as if it were full of mating snakes. The shack had been chosen well beforehand, the location as remote as they could get in the deserts of Nevada. There wasn't another person for maybe thirty miles. They'd had to drive almost four hours to get here.

Mateo stepped back and away from the shack, his eyes glued to it, as if he felt compelled to pay witness. A part of him still wondered if he could do it. He knew Amanda had brought along ear plugs - said that he definitely wanted them, otherwise he'd turn back, run away, ruin this whole scheme - but what he wanted most was a 40 in his hand to take the sting off. No matter how much he swallowed, his mouth would never wet, the dry desert air sapping all moisture from his skin and eyes. The fire will make it worse, he thought. I should have brought lotion. I'm gonna be so ashy.

The strange things you think about.

"Here," Amanda offered, taking his hand and pressing earplugs into his palm. The blond girl pulled back a strand of gelled, spiky hair to showcase that she'd already put hers in. "You better do it quick. She's gonna wake up soon."

"Am... Amanda--" Mateo started, turning his dark eyes to the ear plugs.

"She's a witch," Amanda drew out. "A bruja. Someone who makes curses just for giggles."

Mateo drew a shaking breath and began to put the plug in his ear when he heard someone say, from within the shack, "Mateo? Baby?"

The voice was laced with terror and confusion, and he felt a panic rise in his stomach. I can't do this.

But then, as he moved his hand, the tracks across each and every one of his finger joints seemed to glare at him in the desert's unmerciful sun. The memory of his mother's knife cutting cleanly through the toddler's joints made his stomach climb up into his chest cavity, the recollection of growing them back making him feel like he would vomit. This was a small sacrifice for what he would get. That was what Amanda had told him. True, full, curse-blinding.


He put the ear plugs into his ears as he stared at the runes he'd carved into the door of the shack, and he pulled out the matchbook from his back jeans pocket. Amanda watched with green eyes as he walked forward, struck the match, and hover there.

Everything was still as Mateo let the match burn towards his finger, standing with a flat expression.

Finally, he threw it towards the shack, and it caught flame. Even through the plugs, he could hear her scream.