The Red Knight

The Red Knight

The pain was delicious and crisp. It commanded my attention away from all the trappings of normal daily life, demanding that I pay it homage. The flame burned dull and steady. It didn't care what it's was being used for it just sat there, perched atop the candle burning. I was the one searing the flesh from my forearm; the flame was merely a bystander. But oh how I wish it knew. How I wanted to whisper to that thin orange flame how much it meant to me. I loved it. It was the shining knight come to help me escape from the iron tower of wretched mortal existence. My instincts got the better of me and recoiled the damaged limb. No matter, my mind was made up. I would finally give in to the compulsion to kill but I had painted the target squarely on myself. My sickness would not spread beyond this point.

The gasoline smelled sweeter than usual as I poured it over myself. I had expected to be choked by the fumes but the tranquility I felt was impenetrable. My last act was tiny, almost insignificant. I simply had to let go. Drop the candle to the ground and let the shining hero flame do its job. It was smooth sliding through my fingers, every sense was heightened. The room suddenly burst to life with light and brilliant hues of orange, red and white dancing across the blue black darkness of the basement walls. Then... Blackness.
It was done.