drabble on 'return'- 1957
He comes back in daytime. Sunlight splinters in his eyes, like his retinas were scratched glass, refracting, scattering, painful glare. The dark faceplate of the firefighter helmet helps, but still he squints.
Kerosene sharp and acrid, he can taste the smell. Slip silent, quiet, around the house he knew so well. Pour. Careful, careful.
Two humans as dayguard. He knows where they'll be. Kills them.
He circles the stately old plantation house, remembering. His prison. The French windows hold elegant lace curtains whose patterns were burned into his skin. He remembers everything.
The light blurs everything. Soon, smoke does too.
Kerosene sharp and acrid, he can taste the smell. Slip silent, quiet, around the house he knew so well. Pour. Careful, careful.
Two humans as dayguard. He knows where they'll be. Kills them.
He circles the stately old plantation house, remembering. His prison. The French windows hold elegant lace curtains whose patterns were burned into his skin. He remembers everything.
The light blurs everything. Soon, smoke does too.