He pushed himself forward, his shattered leg screaming as the metal contraptions bounced on each step edge.
A thick cloud of smoke hit.
Alan tried to get out of its line, but couldn’t and started gagging as it filled his lungs.
Next his hand slipped as he tried forcing himself out of it and his body went sliding down the second half of the stairs, the metal device clanking away, excruciating pain speeding back and forth along his nerves.
When Alan hit the bottom of the stairs he felt himself go into a daze, one which he couldn’t force himself out of right away.
And then the flames touched his left arm.
He felt the skin start to cook and managed to pull it away, but the flames followed, hungry now that they had tasted flesh, and came at him.
Alan tried twisting himself back around so he could climb up the steps, but couldn’t maneuver himself like that.
Screams touched his ear drums.
He didn’t even realize they were his own.
At the same time he heard someone say the door was locked. It was his father. Beyond that he could hear his mother screaming for him to open the door and get Alan.
One of the windows next to the door shattered.
An explosion followed and the last thing Alan saw was a burst of flames coming toward him, the fire racing down his throat and scorching his lungs as he tried to scream. A blissful blackness followed.
News clipping from Ashland Creek Weekly Chronicle collected by Tina Thompson:
Arson is expected in a fire that destroyed the family home of the late Jimmy Hawthorn last night, the young man responsible for the kidnapping and torture of two high school girls, one of whom died before being rescued by sheriff deputies. Jimmy Hawthorn was also responsible for the shooting death of high school senior Brett Murphy. Alan Hawthorn, little brother of Jimmy, who was recovering from wounds sustained in the shootout with police during what is now known as the Prom Night Shootout, died in the fire, his charred remains discovered just steps away from the front door. Jimmy Hawthorn’s parents could not be reached for comment though witnesses say the two were seen fleeing the back door of the house shortly before the fire was called in by them, and that they raced around to the front of the house to try and rescue their youngest son. A false alarm 911 call made from a payphone at a gas station on the outskirts of town shortly before the fire started is being investigated, and is being blamed for the delay in fire fighter response to the blaze. No suspects in the arson have been named yet.
Two months later, sitting in the locked bathroom of her parent’s house, Samantha King stared at the pregnancy test she had secretly bought earlier that day, after it became clear that her missed periods could be more than just a result of great emotional stress and pain.
A moment later she screamed while throwing the item against the wall, the broken pieces falling to the floor. Tears followed.
“Samantha, are you okay?” her mother asked while rattling the knob.
“Yes,” Samantha said around her tears, her eyes staring at the new opened bottle of sleeping pills she had set on the counter before peeing on the stick. “I’m fine.”
About The Author
William Malmborg has been publishing short stories in horror magazines and dark fiction anthologies since 2002. In addition to JIMMY, two of his novels, NIKKI’S SECRET and TEXT MESSAGE, are both available, as is a short story collection titled SCRAPING THE BONE that features five previously published and five original tales of horror. When not writing William caters to the whims of Toby and Truman, two cats who reside with him in DeKalb.
To learn more about William Malmborg check out his webpage at:
http://www.williammalmborg.com/
You can also friend him on Facebook at:
http://www.facebook.com/wlmalmborg
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2011 by William Malmborg.
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author.