A Phoenix For A Pet
(The tidy version with real endnotes)
None of these characters are the property of TAFKA. I don't claim to own them, only the fiction based around them. Sue me if you must, but would you be willing to take some artwork in lieu of cash because I have an abundance of the former and meager amounts of the latter. TAFKA is ã of TAFKA, and no one else is TAFKA.
This is based on reality. You guess which part.
Daria stood next to Jane. Jane was sobbing quietly, so Daria put her arm around Jane's shoulders. Daria didn't cry – she'd cried in public only once, and she wasn't about to make a habit of it. None the less, she felt an overwhelming sense of loss. Jane placed a lily on the freshly turned grave.
'It's my fault.'
Daria remained silent, as she placed her lily next to Jane's. She wanted to console her friend, but she didn't quite know how.
They walked away from the grave, intending to go to Daria's place. Without even thinking about it, the route they took led them to the charred remnants of the Lane household. They stopped on the opposite side of the street, where three nights ago they had stood waiting for the fire fighters to arrive. They both sat heavily, neither wanting to be there, but neither willing to part with the memories of that ill-fated Friday night.
Daria was spending the night at Jane's when the whole thing started. Jane had just bought a bottle of potassium permanganate and was in an experimental mood.
Jane wanted to experiment with the aging effects of potassium permanganate and citric acid on photographs. Daria looked around the room. It was, she decided, the ultimate fire hazard. From the paper, cardboard and wood that would let a good blaze burn out of control within minutes to the highly combustible oil paints and thinners that would catch alight from the tiniest spark. Not to mention the pile of turpentine soaked rags that she used to clean her paintbrushes.
But Jane still insisted on her experimentation.
'It's an art thing, Daria. Besides, you're room is just as much of a fire hazard as mine is.'
Daria, remembering the amount of paper she had lying about in her room, conceded the point.
'Anyway, could you grab that bottle of lemon juice from the fridge for me?' Jane said, without looking up from her project.
Daria groaned. Chemicals, more chemicals, and citric acid. She hoped Jane knew what she was doing.
'Just open a window before you start playing with chemicals, okay.'
She looked at Jane, who was busy mixing up a batch of potassium permanganate.
'Or why don't you just set a match to it now, and be done with it.'
Jane didn't even bat an eyelid.
Daria groaned, and went to get the juice.
'Cool idea Daria. I could take photos of the flames.' Jane looked up when there was no response. She shrugged and went back to her experimentation, too engrossed to bother opening the window. She was busy painting the photos with potassium permanganate when Daria returned with the juice. Daria plonked it down beside her. Jane seemed very absorbed. Daria sighed and flopped down onto the bed, felling around for the remote.
She was flicking through the channels when she heard Jane swearing. One of the photos had caught fire. Daria leapt up, thinking on her feet. Where had she seen a fire extinguisher? She ran towards the kitchen.
In the meantime, Jane was looking around the room for something to extinguish the flames. Her eyes lit on a pile of rags in the corner. She grabbed them and turned to beat out the rapidly spreading flames. One of the rags she was holding caught fire. She dropped it on top of the others in panic. Jane cursed as a fireball exploded. She ran out of the room screaming.
'Daria, the rooms alight. Call 911. I'll get Trent up. Just get out of the house, okay.'
She ran into Trent's room.
'Trent'
Trent snored lightly and rolled over in his sleep.
'Trent, wake up!'
Trent just lay there in a cataleptic state.
'Dammit Trent!' Jane reached over and tried to wake him, to no avail. 'The house is on fire.' She shook him. 'Wake up, damn you!'
She grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out of the room. She dragged him down the stairs, his bouncing narcoleptic body gaining multiple bruises. Trent began to regain consciousness.
Jane dragged him through the door.
Trent grinned stupidly.
'What's up Janey?'
Daria was already outside, on the other side of the street.
Jane let go of Trent, and calmly walked over to her best and only friend.
Trent stood up in a daze.
He noticed his sister and her friend standing on the other side of the street. He meandered over to them.
The three watched in eerie fascination as Jane's bedroom window shattered all over the lawn.
'I guess using potassium permanganate on photographs wasn't such a good idea.' Jane laughed ironically.
'Not if you insist on doing it without realising the fire risk involved.'
'The flames were cool.'
Daria sighed. She could hear sirens closing in on them.
Trent paled.
'My axe! My amp! My music…' He ran back into the house.
Barely a minute after he had run into the burning house, Jane and Daria watched in horror as Jane's bedroom exploded in a ball of flames.
'His stuff was in the basement, right?' Daria said nervously as she turned to Jane.
'H...he was practicing in his room this afternoon. That's where…' Jane started crying.
Daria put her arms around her friend, and ignored the fact that they were out in the open. She too, cried.
Jane looked up at Daria.
'It's my fault. It's all my fault.'
ENDNOTES
- The potassium permanganate situation happened to me once, but I did manage to get the fire under control.
- It had to happen – a 'Trent's death' fanfic. My apologies to all shippers.
- The original title for this was 'Black Friday', but I thought that it was way too obvious.
- 'A Phoenix For A Pet' refers to the idea of playing with 'fire', and trying to tame it. (Potassium permanganate, when combined with citric acid and the chemicals on photographs, is highly combustible. DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME, UNLESS YOU ARE IN WELL-VENTILATED CONCRETE BUNKER WEARING ASBESTOS ARMOUR!!!!! J )
- Special thanks to the lecturers at USQ, Toowoomba for the project which inspired this piece. (It was an artists book project for my drawing class, and I decided, perhaps not so wisely, to use potassium permanganate and vinegar on photographs. Nice flames, pretty flames, about two feet away from a gas heater in the middle of winter. Did it ignite the gas? Well, I'm writing this, aren't I? And Jane's situation could have happened to me, if I had been working with oils, not chalk pastels, graphite powder, charcoal and acrylics. (Yes, I used a pastel smudged and paint smeared rag to put out the flames!) – Although, the flames were pretty cool.)
- Jane's window shattered from the heat. The explosion came from the tin of turpentine (turps) combusting from that same heat.
(theartistformerlyknownas)
tafka_the_dragon@hotmail-europe.com