Gothic Story

Night of Fire
The costume store Halloween Central had been bustling with activity for the majority of the day, but in the last few minutes before closing time, the lone cashier Frederick Mason had some time to consider his own plans for the upcoming holiday, Halloween, as well as reflect on the terrible tragedy that had occurred just yesterday. A devastating fire had sprung up in the middle of downtown, damaging several buildings, but mainly staying confined to the large apartment complex from which it had originated. Firefighters had said that the cause of the fire was still unknown. Dozens of residents in the complex had lost their lives, and many more were injured before the fire was extinguished. A highlight of the breaking news story was the account of how one of the most severely injured burn victims, having been transported to the hospital while unconscious from his wounds, had woken from his stupor and had started incessantly asking for a mirror. Because of the severity of the damage to his features, the man had been unidentified. As soon as he witnessed the extent of the damage to his face and the rest of his body, he began screaming madly and fled the hospital, although the doctors said that the pain of his wounds should have prevented him from doing any such thing. He had been missing since then. Frederick shook his head at the thought of such horrible events taking place so near to what should be a festive and enjoyable time for the city.
As Frederick began closing up his small business, he heard the bell that signified the front door opening ring, and a smell of foul smoke filled the air. Detesting the nasty habit of smoking, Frederick frowned, but then forced on a smile and turned to greet what would no doubt be the last customer of the night. His smile wavered at what he saw before him. An immensely tall man filled the doorway, dressed completely in black. Wearing black combat boots, baggy black jeans, a zipped up black leather jacket, even black leather gloves, the man made an imposing figure. The strangest part, however, was the brown paper bag the man was wearing over his head, with two small eyeholes cut into the front. The man was showing not a single inch of skin. As he made his way back behind the counter, Frederick greeted “Dressing up a bit early, are we? Halloween isn’t until tomorrow, friend. I was just about to close up but I suppose I can serve you right quick. What might you be looking for?” As he spoke, Frederick wrinkled his nose at the overpowering stench of smoke that emanated from the figure… it truly was wretched smelling, hardly even like that from a cigarette.
An unusually deep, raspy voice emitted from behind the bag, sounding extremely strained, as if the man were in agonizing pain. “A mask. One that will cover the entire face. Please.”
Frederick replied, “Well, I’m sure you can see I have plenty of those. Most of the best ones are right here behind me. Why don’t you take your pick and then I can help see you on your way.”
The man’s head tilted upward as he surveyed the numerous masks hung up behind the counter. He pointed upward and said, “I’d like that one right there. Please.”
Frederick turned around to see which mask the stranger might be requesting. He heard a rustle of leather, and suddenly a heavily muscled, powerful arm was wrapped around his neck from behind. His ability to breathe was immediately terminated, and he quickly learned that his attempts at struggling were quite in vain. As he continued to make an effort to unfasten the stranglehold, he heard the stranger frantically murmuring “I didn’t deserve this. I look like a monster now. I sound like a monster now. Might as well act like one. Yes, a monster on the loose. A monster for Halloween. A monster.”
As the man muttered those last two words, his grip tightened even more, and the life of Frederick Mason was quickly over. The burned man, as he had come to think of himself, for his true name and indeed his very identity had been forgotten after the traumatic event of the fire, the torturous beginning of a now unending pain, and the first viewing of his now terrifying visage, lumbered around behind the counter. The now limp, dead Frederick Mason was lying motionless on the ground, an expression of complete terror frozen on his face. The burned man smiled at the sight, despite the pain it caused him to move his skinless face and cracked lips in such a fashion. He then turned, and pulled down the mask that he actually had been pointing to, from among those of zombies, ghosts, and witches that lined the wall. It was mostly white, with red lips, red dots and lines about the forehead, and two red diamond shapes decorating around the eyeholes. It would serve the task of hiding his face… his hideous face, he thought with a wince.

Holding the mask in his hand he looked again down at the corpse and whispered, “You should know the pain that I felt, dead man. Everyone should. Everyone. You should know what it’s like to be kissed by fire.” The burned man withdrew a Zippo lighter from his jacket pocket, and flicked the flame to life. He stared at it in fascination for a moment, and then lowered it down to touch it to his victim. A small spot of dead Frederick’s work jacket began to blacken, and a small flame sprung up from where the lighter was being held, but the burned man was not satisfied. Enraged, he flung the paper bag from his head to better view his task. Remembering the condition of his countenance, he whimpered and quickly donned the mask. Grimacing, he again held the lighter to his victim, and again the jacket only very slowly began to blacken and harbor the fire. “Burn, damn you”, he snarled. “Burn like I did. Burn burn burn burn…”
Incredibly enough, it seemed as if the small flame obeyed his command. In the blink of an eye the whole of the corpse was wreathed in flame. The suddenly roaring fire reflected off the smooth white surface of the burned man’s new mask as the laughed maniacally at the sight before him. “Now you can feel what I felt, dead man! Now you know what it’s like to burn!” Still laughing, the deranged man fled the store, and the fire he had started spread outward from poor Frederick. As he ran, filled with thoughts of flame and fire, and how he would show people what he had felt during the holiday tomorrow night, where his mask would aid him in approaching his victims, the reflection of the swirling flames never left the smooth white and red surface of the mask, even after he left the fire of the shop long behind him.
Despite the report of yesterday’s murder and arson, and the fiery tragedy that had taken place just two days ago, Halloween night started off wonderfully. A full moon had risen high in the sky, to the delight of the younger celebrators. Families took out their children, all dressed up in their cute costumes, everyone having a grand old time. The sounds of children squealing in delight at the abundance of candy and the constant “Trick-or-treat! Trick-or-treat!” filled the air. Many residents of the neighborhood were quite enthusiastic about the holiday, and made quite frightening decorations in their yards, going to great lengths to scare the young trick-or-treaters as they ventured across for their candy. High pitched screams occasionally filled the air, always accompanied by gales of laughter from the parents. That laughter would often die out, however, as the screaming began to occur more and more frequently. Some of the screams were the expected surprised exclamation of a child, but others that the adults noticed sounded more of true terror, and frighteningly enough, even pain. Even more oddly, there was widely noticed a pervading aroma of smoke that filled the neighborhood, a truly rank stench that was not reminiscent at all of that from the more recognizable bonfire smoke. More and more of the stench and screams echoed down the streets, and intermittently insane laughter and cries of “Burn, burn!” were heard. Parents began to frantically shepherd their children home as numerous fire trucks and police cars began to zoom past and wail their sirens.
Families began to arrive back at their respective abodes, and quickly gathered around televisions to see what could possibly be happening. The news report was quite terrifying. Many, many murders and arsons had been reported over the last two hours, but the killer had remained strangely elusive. Men, women, children, entire families… the murderer seemed to have no morals. The oddest part of the report was that all of the victims were found to have died strictly from extreme burn wounds. Many houses had inexplicably gone up in flames, often too fast for the inhabitants to escape. Police began to question witnesses, and all gave similar descriptions of the culprit. He was a huge figure, dressed all in black, and he left fire and death in his wake. He was ceaselessly laughing maniacally and screaming madness, and the mask he wore seemed to reflect the very fires of Hell. The houses that caught fire always were engulfed incredibly fast, and the flames often spread to neighboring homes before firefighters even arrived on the scene. Police were mysteriously unable to track down the madman; he seemed to be everywhere at once. Eventually, everyone in the neighborhood could look out a window and see either a burning home, or a helpless victim wreathed in flame fleeing down the street.
Finally, the hero of the night Officer George Gilder put an end to the fiery man’s rampage. He followed a trail of burning bodies to the sight of the huge killer holding a mere Zippo lighter to the side of a home, and saw the house go up in flames seconds after. As the large man slowly looked over at George, and the flames on his mask fairly lit up the night with their intensity, the experienced police officer whipped the double barrel shotgun from inside his car and quickly put an end to the murderer. Seconds after the shot was fired, the roaring infernos that covered numerous houses and screaming victims all over the suburb quickly guttered out. To the dwellers of that small town, the once beloved holiday of Halloween was remembered for decades after as the Night of Fire.