AN: 'Fear of fire'. Recommended listening: 'Arsonist's Lullaby' from Hozier.
McStaken-I maintain that Tim is the favorite Robin to kidnap-he's quiet. Little creepy, maybe, but quiet. Doesn't interrupt your villain monologue. The one time you try to be nice...ungrateful swine. Next time we'll be a little less friendly, maybe. Humph.
You know, it's a funny, funny thing, that despite all the little jokes I hear about scarecrows and fire, I don't suffer that particular phobia.
I don't know why they think I should. Do they think it's clever? Is it from something? I don't really care, but it grows old.
It's funny, really. I should, by all rights, have a healthy fear of the stuff. Unfortunate childhood incident, I'm afraid-I still have the scar, just here. Matches burn surprisingly hot, you'd be surprised. I remember it like it was yesterday…hot Arlen sunshine, only just tempered by a sycamore tree…the house would have been cooler, I know, but the risks…
It was a productive day despite it all. Miggs was too stupid to be frightened, as boys that age often are-he'd never learned to fear anything. But the other…Rogers…I remember. Miggs got a bit too close with that match. He didn't like that at all.
It pays to be observant, you know.
I'm not ill-acquainted with setting a fire. I couldn't afford to be-once or twice we had a case of rabies on the property-squirrels, if I remember right, Arlen always has to be the odd one out for that sort of thing-and Granny would insist we burn the remains, and after that she'd make me burn the remains of anything she caught in a trap-mice and such. To this day I'm not sure if it was a health concern or if she just wanted to make me squirm…but I digress.
It's not difficult, to set a fire. Risky, a little, but if you're quick, like I am…really, it's their own fault. I learned to be quick, to outrun them.
Well, after Granny died, when nobody came looking, I remembered Rogers' little…upset. I hadn't thought about it for years, but now, now that I could come and go as I pleased…
I chalk it up, personally, to an abundance of freedom. You see it all the time in students living alone for the first time. Regardless, it wasn't at all difficult to let myself into his room one afternoon and start a small, very small, fire.
Under his bed, of course. Couldn't risk it being noticed immediately.
Don't look at me like that, it's ridiculous. The brat didn't die, anyhow. Received a few nasty burns though…paralyzed through terror, I understand. His father had to carry him out. Most excitement that town had had all year…quiet place, as I'm sure you're aware of by now.
I always have wondered, a little, if that incident cured his phobia or worsened it. Perhaps I'll find out next time I'm back. In the interests of catching up and all.
THE END