Fiction | Short Story | Horror | Drama
Where There’s Smoke
Sometimes, it really is better to bite your tongue and keep your cool.
Vanessa knew it was uncharitable to dislike a child, yet there was something about Elliot that was unsettling. But since Elliot came as a package deal with Michael, she was making the best of the situation.
Michael had been widowed three years ago, when Elliot was just four. His wife had died in a house fire which Elliot had survived, though not unscathed. His little hands still bore the scars of the flames that had claimed his mother’s life. His mind…that was something Michael never went into detail about. All he would say was that Elliot’s mother had been strict and angry, and Elliot seemed much happy without her influence in his life.
Undaunted by his experience, Elliot was fascinated by fire. Vanessa had at first been reluctant to light her open fire in the evenings when Elliot asked her to, but Michael had insisted it was fine if that was what Elliot wanted. The first night she lit it, the little boy sat in front of the hearth, staring into the flames for over an hour, his lips moving as if he was talking, but with no sound coming out. It seemed odd to her, but Michael paid it no mind, so she let it slide.
When school closed for the Christmas break, Vanessa found herself at home with Elliot for several hours each day while Michael went out to work. Her own job kept her busy in her home office most of the day, but she did her best to keep Elliot occupied and checked on him regularly when he wasn’t in the room with her. Mostly he played on his gaming console, but he didn’t link up with any friends and he didn’t seem to mind.
On the third day of the holiday, after fixing Elliot some lunch and popping a Christmas movie on the TV for him to watch while she did some more work, Vanessa noticed an odd smell in the house. Sulphur. So strong it was almost overwhelming. A quick scurry around to find the source revealed Elliot now sitting in front of her fireplace striking match after match and throwing them into the ashes of the previous evening’s fire.
Under his breath, he whispered something she couldn’t catch.
For a moment, Vanessa froze. Then the need to make him safe punched its way through her fugue and she darted forward, snatching away the box of matches. She told him never to touch the matches again because they were dangerous. He looked disappointed and left the room without a word, heading for his bedroom.
When Michael returned home, she made sure to talk to him about what Elliot had done, thinking he would be as horrified as she was and have serious words with his son. Though he looked visibly shaken, he insisted it was better to just ignore it, not make a fuss, and put the matches out of Elliot’s reach so it couldn’t happen again.
Though Vanessa strongly disagreed with his approach, she bowed to his judgement. It didn’t feel right to overrule considering Elliot was his flesh and blood child. She placed the box of matches on top of a high bookcase and left it at that. She didn’t light the fire that night either, not wishing to do anything to encourage the boy’s fascination with flames.
The next couple of days were quiet. Elliot didn’t engage much and refused to partake in any of the activities Vanessa encouraged him to enjoy while she worked. There were only two more days until Michael was on holiday for Christmas too, and she couldn’t wait to share the parenting load. She kept telling herself it was just a period of adjustment. That Elliot would settle in and open up, perhaps make a few friends among the local children who lived nearby. She’d never had children of her own, let alone a child traumatised by a horrific event in his formative years. It was unkind to judge him so quickly. Things would work out, one way or another.
But when a knock on her front door broke her attention the next morning, she was shocked to find one of her elderly neighbours on her doorstep, his hand resting on Elliot’s shoulder. “Caught him out in our shed,” he explained, as Elliot shrugged free of his touch and pushed his way past Vanessa and into the house. “Not the first time we’ve had to shoo him away either. You need to keep an eye on him. He’s heading for trouble if you ask me.”
She apologised and thanked him for bringing Elliot back safely, but before she could shut the door the man yelled. “You stay out of my garden, you little weirdo. Next time I’ll call the police.”
Vanessa closed the door, letting her forehead fall against it. This wasn’t working. She couldn’t give Elliot the attention he needed to keep him safe while she was working. She and Michael needed to come up with another solution. From somewhere behind her, she heard Elliot whispering, but the words were just too quiet to hear. Her instincts told her to go reprimand him and send him to his room again, but Michael had insisted that was detrimental to Elliot’s mental health. She bit her tongue, locked all the downstairs windows and doors, then followed the sound. She found him in the living room, staring into the cold, soot-stained fireplace, muttering under his breath.
“Elliot.”
He kept talking, his voice a little quieter now he knew she was close by.
“Elliot, please face me.”
After a few seconds of hesitation, he turned around and glared at her from beneath sullen brows.
“Elliot, Mr and Mrs Lowry are very angry with you. I really don’t want you to get into trouble with them, so please don’t go over there again. Okay?”
Elliot showed little sign of understanding her request. In fact, he showed no reaction at all.
Heart thumping, face flushed, Vanessa stared at him a little longer, then calmly said, “Why don’t you go play on your video games?”
He didn’t say anything, just walked past her toward the stairs and disappeared from view.
That evening, after updating Michael, the two settled down to relax in front of the TV for the evening. Vanessa’s concerns about Elliot and his intrusion onto the neighbours’ property had gone largely unaddressed, but she convinced herself to let Michael take the lead because it was too soon in their relationship for her to shoehorn her way into a parental role.
Elliot had gone to bed at nine, not even speaking to his father during their evening meal, or when he’d told him it was time to sleep. It was obvious he was still angry from Mr Lowry’s rude rebuke, but tomorrow was another day. Hopefully, he would wake up in a better mood.
Around forty minutes later, Vanessa thought she heard something over the noise of their show. She glanced Michael’s way, meeting his puzzled expression. She muted the TV and listened. It was shouting. A female voice, and it was coming from somewhere outside.
That was also the moment Vanessa noticed the slightest whiff of smoke.
Michael was first out of the door. The look of sheer panic that had flitted across his face when he leapt from his chair filled Vanessa with dread as she chased after him.
Heat hit her as soon as she crossed the threshold.
Next door, flames climbed the walls of the Lowry’s house, and Mrs Lowry was screaming for help from an upstairs window. Michael did his best to help as Vanessa called for the fire brigade, gathering together pillows, duvets and cushions from Vanessa’s sofas to build a soft landing pad for the elderly couple to drop down to. But Mrs Lowry was too frightened to get herself to safety and Mr Lowry was nowhere in sight.
From the corner of her eye, Vanessa saw movement. It was Elliot, highlighted by the glow of the flames, laughing and bouncing as if this was the most fun he’d had in years. In his right hand he clutched a box of matches.
Concern immediately transformed into fury. “Elliot, how coul — ”
A hand clamping over her mouth stopped her in mid-sentence. Then, Michael whispered in her ear. “Don’t say any more. He really won’t like it.”
Her stomach somersaulted. Elliot continued to dance and hop, chanting, “Strike a match and watch it burn. It’s the only way they’ll learn.”
Those were the words he’d been muttering since she’d first lit the fire in her home for him. That realisation made her apprehension around Elliot make perfect sense.
As did his mother’s death.
