He wasn’t thinking that this happen, the thought of such a meaningless amusement skyrocketing into something so…volatile never crossed his mind. Perhaps this was similar to what was said of sociopaths - sometimes fantasizing wasn’t enough.
He had to take it to the next level, the next step something bigger something better every time.
What had started as just lighting matches and watching them burn down till the heat licked at his fingers was no longer a substantial way of keeping his interest.
That was when he had moved on to small twig fires, mini campfires. Soon that dwindled as well.
Then came full campfires - something he thought he could control rather easily.
Until gasoline got involved and creating shapes in the dirt by trailing a line of the flammable liquid into different patterns. Once lit it would ignite his art until the substance evaporated and the flames dwindled.
Nature didn’t see his testing of the limits as amusing. A dry spell and a unfortunate direction of wind played against him that fateful day.
It was a normal session with himself. Everything set just the way he wanted it.
The match drops and the wind picks up whipping the flames towards the dry grass. It only takes one spark for the flames to ignite and race along until the entire field was ignited. Racing along like a hungry animal until the was raging in flame.
The expectation had never been so great as to think that it would reach that far. In the distance a house was visible. The wind raged onward moving the flames to lick at the dry boards of the house.
The fires ridiculous speed outmatched him. Mind raced and heart pounded as opions dropped for escape.
Putting out the fire was impossible.
Ran out the only exit left and all the way home.
Sleep would not find him for another day.
Once the next days paper was read.
Wildfire Spreads in Dry Field, Three dead.
A family, all dead because of his vices.
A short relief from the guilt that would haunt him forever…
The guilt that would wake him in a cold sweat, with nothing but the moon casting light into their humble abode. The aching of his heart still clawing at his chest.
It looks like they’re eating the fruit that you said controlled destiny…I wonder how old these are…
I say let’s go for it, I personally think it’s an urban legent, but it smells so sweet I don’t know how I’ve resisted eating it without you guys this long.