A burning question
The family had been sat by the fireside that evening, dinner had been a hearty stew served with a good portion of mashed potato. Especially filling, and in keeping with the weather at the time. The fire was roaring merrily, letting out a warm glow filling the room. This was just the holiday that they’d been after. Katy, the mother, had been undergoing a lot of disruption at work with new joiners meaning the HR department she lead was under extra strain to get people settled in and processed. They’d just migrated to a newer ‘better’ solution than the one that’d worked well since she’d started and to say there were teething troubles was putting it mildly. Several of her staff had left themselves over it. The amount of tracking their staff with their phones had been frightening. But she soldiered through, having just put a down payment on their house and paid out for a holiday they really couldn’t afford to be job hunting right now.
Knowing this the father, George, had sought out this beautiful countryside cottage, down a lane of its own, several miles from civilisation. No phone signal, no busy traffic; just what they needed. Katy felt a little uncomfortable with being quite so far from a hospital though. She’d been suffering some dizzy spells and the cottage wasn’t well modernised. It had running water, some heaters and limited electricity — none of the bedrooms had any. But worst of all was the narrow stairs in the property, and the concrete steps on the path leading to the front of the cottage. Even as they arrived she’d stumbled and felt herself falling before George caught her in his usual suave way. She still felt flustered by him even years on in moments like this, she almost felt giddy; apart from the nausea the spell had bought with it.
Pat had been sat playing quiety with his toy card on the rug by the fire — the pattern on it leant itself well to being a race track for the cars. George sat reading his book in the high backed chair. It was like being a normal family again to him. Not hearing the terrible stories that work had brought about for Katy. That was their rule this holiday — no talking about work. George had been having difficulty with the magazine he was editor for. The writers had been delayed and their quality shabby for several issues now, but the area was specialist enough for him to be stuck with them through rarity. No-one knew the field quite as well as them. He was modest about the amount of hours he’d put in. Katy had spied him on more than one occasion sat at the dining room table with the lamp from the upstairs study peering over print outs he’d taken home from work to look at.
George must’ve dozed off, as he awoke Pat wasn’t there. He couldn’t quite make out the time on the ticking grandfather clock in the corner of the room in the half light. Katy was no-where to be seen, she must have put him to bed he thought, thinking how it was sweet of her to let him rest, and how quiet she must have been in doing so. He was a light sleeper at the best of times, but he supposed that normally he didn’t fall asleep in an armchair either. He walked down the hallway to round the steps when he saw Pat peering through the bannisters at him, eyes glowing with the embers of the fire. It seemed too bright to be a proper reflection. He rubbed at his eyes to help them adjust to the blackness he was about to walk into. Pat had disappeared when he’d finished. Strange, he hadn’t heard him move. Earlier that day he’d said to Katy at how loud the floorboards creaked as they walked over them. Probably the sleep still keeping its grip on me, he thought. As he ascended the stairs to the wide landing. This place was much bigger than it’d looked on the pictures. Along the corridor he could see the same glow as from the fire, but this was Pat’s room. Panicked he hurried towards it, fearing something awful. The light vanished, the darkness returned abruptly and George could see nothing.
Behind him he heard a low growl. He spun around to see Pat, with hands raised palm-up. Gazing in a sense of wonder, despite the growling. George was terrified and awestruck. Swirling around his hands were a fierce yellow flames, spewing out sparks amongst them. Pat stopped his growl. Flexing his fingers he released another flurry of sparks floating to the ceiling. Tears were forming in his eyes. “Daddy, help me!”.
It took a lot of courage to reach out to his son to comfort. He was so relieved he wasn’t in pain from it. Calling for Katy now he embraced Pat. He could feel the warmth from the hands. Near burning him. But he clung on. Bleary eyed Katy stumbled onto the landing, letting out a scream, turning to and from her beloved family seemingly burning.
A sudden burst of bright light erupted from his hands. So bright in contrast to the darkness both the parents had to shield their eyes. It seemed to engulf the room casting no shadow. Light seemed to get everywhere. Under the hall table through to the bedroom. Pat stared at it, unblinking.
The fire seemed to unravel from Pat’s hands and travel across the floor, walls, and ceilings. Retreating through his bedroom doorway. Taking all of the light with it like a train going through a tunnel. Katy’s hair flapped in the wind that tore through the hallway in its wake. The normal cool temperature returned, making them all shiver.
George could hear Katy’s sobs and stumbled in the darkness towards her with an outstretched arm, the other holding on tightly to Pat. The three of them were together now, embracing. The parents felt such relief that their stresses halted, and for a short moment they felt content with their lives.
This was loosely based on a dream
