Pyromaniac :: Personal Narratives Fire Essays

Pyromaniac A secret label, hushed and never talked about, has followed my name since I was born Pyro, pyromaniac that is. Fascination with fire, the uncontrollable impulse to start fires, has been circulating in my blood from the first day I was born. Smelting heat and flames would spark my attention no matter what my surroundings. Candle lit dinner tables, switch flick colorful lighters, lit cigarette butts and burning matches. Oh matches How I love them. The smell of gasoline has of all time been a heavenly scent, burning paper and bonfire parties are two of my other favorites. Smokey murk has always soothed me. One crisp October afternoon, however, that soothing smoky haze turned against me.I was fourteen years old, my parents were not home but my partner-in-crime, Anne, was by my side. Anne was my best friend throughout my childhood years, we did everything together. On weekdays after school, Anne and I headed to my house to be greeted by my comforting living room for our ritu al TV session. Saved by the Bell was our preferred program. With the TV blaring in the background, we scattered our homework about the floor as if we had been studying, just in case my mom showed up unexpectedly. We left behind stained crumpled napkins, fractional eaten snacks and soda cans with few sips drawn from the lip, as we began the hunt for after school frenzy.Suddenly, an idea mazed through my intricate thought process until it burst. The explosion erupted and excitement swam through my bones, in and out of every limb and muscle. I jumped, lets light something on fire in the garage. It would be safer outside of my house, I thought (no one will see us). My garage contained two small tinted windows, so that no one could peer inside, no one could catch us in the act of the crime. Annes face lit up with excitement as she said, Ok, Ill grab the toilet paper and napkins, you grab some compose paper. Our plan was set. We scurried to the garage, carrying pa per and other burnables. Matches were always better than lighters for experiments such as these. For our first experiment, we ignited napkins and paper, but the excitement quickly fizzled. Having lost our initial epinephrin rush, we began to search for more dangerous flammables.