The House Fire

Something smells. Something is burning.

Jake grabs the thick edge of his duvet and throws it to the floor. Wiping the sleep out of his eyes he sits up and rests his bare feet on the duvet. He sniffs the air, something is definitely burning. He wonders about the fire alarm, why had it not sounded, but then he realises – Eric! Ann! His children. They are in the house, across the corridor. Oh God!

He stands and crosses the room in a half-sprint. He grabs the door handle and rips it open; almost pulling the hinges off the frame they are fixed to. He is in too much of a rush to notice how hot the handle was. It blistered his hand it was so hot, conducting the heat from the naked flames meters away.

The flames blocked the corridor; they blocked the children's door. Jake began to panic. Heavy breathing caused ash to fill his nostrils and dirty black smoke to decorate his lungs. How did this happen? Why now, the day his children are in his house? One thing to be happy about, the decision to not lay carpet, it would have spread much faster.

Jake had to act fast. It was getting as hot as a summer in hell, and oxygen was decreasing quickly. He was half-naked and fighting a naked inferno. He needed armour. The Duvet! He retrieved his bedding and wrapped it around himself. He charged the flames and in less than a second found himself in his children's room. Jake threw the burning duvet to the ground and ran further into the room to rip away the covers from Ann and Eric's bed, as if it was also on fire.

The young ones were not there. Of course, how drunk was he earlier in the night? Memories from six hours ago of empty bottles of whisky, and an angry woman barging in to retrieve her kids. She dragged them right out of the fire and back into the frying pan, thank god.

With relief, Jake finally felt the burn. A degree of burns all over his body. His right foot in particular was in agony, that duvet did not protect all of him. Shades of Achilles – a weakness was exploited by tonight's enemy, The House Fire.

Jake's attention now turned to his own self. He needs to escape, his children still need him. Jake looks to the window, his only way out. The television is the only thing that is not tied down, so Jake limps over to it, picks it up and throws it to the window. It does not go far; it was tied down after away, it was plugged into the mains. Damn Jake's desperation, he needs to think. He could have unplugged it, but he noticed Eric's cricket bat. Jake grabs it and uses it to thrash at the glass. It takes more strikes that it should have, due to his burnt hands, but it shatters and crumbles regardless.

Using the bat to brush away the remaining blades of glass, Jake starts to think about how to cushion the fall. He thinks of his children's mattress, but turns to find a cloud of smoke. It catches on, Jake realises how bad he has been coughing. The flames had entered the bedroom, and began to burn Ann and Eric's toys, releasing poisonous monoxide.

Jake, suffocating, burning, dying, no longer had any time to spare. He took a spring jump onto the window frame and dived from the second floor of his house. Everything went slow. He saw flashing lights as he descended, and when he hit the ground police ran to him. He was still alive, but still dying. Excesses of charcoal still poisoned his lungs. No matter how much he gasped and coughed he could not attract any oxygen. The police pulled Jake to his feet and dragged him away from the house as fully-clothed fire fighters took on the fire.

Jake looked around, everything was still slow, and now blurry. He did not recognise anyone. He could not tell which neighbours cared enough to check if he was alive, or thank those that had come to help. But one face could be made out. It was her – the mother – the ex-wife. Her crocodile tears were given away by that smile of hers. She was laughing on the inside the bitch.

She did it! It was her who made sure her kids were not being harmed; not physically anyway. It was her who had taken up the cigarettes after the divorce. It was her who held batteries in her hand in a stalking manner. She did it! She is a black widow – an arsonist – a murderer. Damn Her!

Something is wrong. He is not breathing. MEDICS! MEDICS! He is leaving us!