I stared at the house, transfixed and mesmerised at what was before me. My flower-patterned nightgown danced lazily around me to the rhythm of the cool night’s breeze, and the short blades of grass felt cold and prickly beneath my bare feet. I curled my toes around them, a sort of reminder to myself that all I was seeing was real because it could be hard to believe it.
It was a beauty to behold. Such a marvellous sight!
Some distance in front of me, large, red flames were shooting to the sky like fearless, fiery monsters. The inferno was raging like demented dragons dancing to some supernatural tune, consuming everything around them with the sole aim of bringing the entire six bedroom duplex down.
The burning house was a place I had erroneously called home for five years of my life; a place I once thought I could find love and peace.
I was wrong.
The fire continued to grow, roaring vehemently and forcing its way out through every window and door, nook and cranny, bearing clouds of smoke blacker than the midnight’s sky. But in the midst of all the chaos, I was glad because they were finally free.
They – Greg and twins, Anne and Grace. They whom no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t be the perfect wife and mother to. I wasn’t even close. They deserved better—to be embraced in the loving arms of a perfect God in a perfect place. I had to put an end to their misery—the misery I had caused them.
Poor souls. I kept failing them, one stupid act after another. There was only one way out for them, only one right thing to do. I sedated them and tucked them in their beds. I kissed them goodnight. Then with some gas and ignition, I set the house ablaze.
As I watched the flames rise I knew they carried with them Greg and the twins’ spirits, and they were already with the angels in heaven. Soon I would join them in that place where all things and all people are perfect, and where no one would ever fail them.
I just had one more thing to do. I just had one more soul to set free before mine.