Chapter 4: Into the Frying Pan

This seemed fine.

I mean, I was fine. I was sitting in some emerald green fire. Seemingly in a fireplace, of all things. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, right? But I didn’t appear to be burning. Obviously, rocks don’t burn. But they can scorch and crack under intense heat. On the other hand, I felt like I was shining brighter than ever. This appeared to be a sort of preference for my new form. It’s way more to my liking than drowning or sitting in the bottom of some muddy pit. It felt cozy. Perfect for a nap.

Oh, right, the home wasn’t fine. It was also on fire. The non-cozy, non-emerald colored kind. Just normal, orange and red and dangerous hot fire. I realized it wouldn’t be a home for long unless I did something about it! I had no idea what had happened, but I had the distinct impression that it was all my fault… As far as I could tell, nobody was home. Which meant there would be nobody else to help bail me out of this mess. It wasn’t like I could watch the house burn down around me. I would feel awful! Of course, I’d get over it eventually, but I’d still have to add it onto my nightly prayer list for the sins I had accidentally committed while sleeping.

Time to roll up my sleeves and see what I was working with. And what do you know, there was a lot! Whatever happened between my little hole in the ground and being in this building, my awareness broadened greatly. The miracles of modern science! Before this, in the hole, I could see my rocky core self quite clearly. Like I had a 360 degree view. But it was limited. I had this vague feeling that I might have become part of the hole itself, which grew further as I dug around more. Up on the surface though, I could see everything. All at once. I wasn’t just the rock. I was also the hearth beneath me. Including the very stones, the ashes, the fire itself. I had become part of it. The firepit was an extension of myself. Like hair growing in weird places as one got older. I was also the walls and the front door. I was the knicknacks on the shelves, the boots scuffs on the wooden floor, and the kitchen cabinets. I could also focus my attention - presumably my consciousness - to get a better look at things.I could peer into the contents of the closed cabinets if I concentrated, because I was them - including the awful recipe books inside. I was also the skeleton with the shattered skull on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Strangely, though, I was not the other remaining skeletons. All three of them had eye sockets that glowed with dim emerald fire that burned on nothing. I could ‘see’ them through the rest of the house, but I was not them.

And hey, lookie here: my consciousness could take a peek up the stairs to the bedrooms and zoom around the corner to see the pantry too. Big surprise: the pantry was also on fire.

Okay then. Let’s just step outside for a moment and get some fresh air. No use panicking in a tissy right now. Let me think about this a little. And hmmm… that’s weird. I could see out the front door, but not by much. It was like my vision stopped at the porch and after that the rest of the world stopped existing. Or more specifically, that I stopped being part of the world? I was the porch, but not the grass right in front of it. When I tried looking out the backdoor, I found that I could indeed “see” a bit further. All the way to the tree I had grown earlier. Along with the wind chimes on the back deck, all the flowers in the garden, the very top layer of soil, and the vines curling all around the pergola. All of that and the tree were part of me. But nothing beyond that.

Fiddlesticks.

My intuition told me there was a creek beyond that tree. But I wasn’t sure how to get to it. And how to even use it, for that matter. I didn’t exactly have hands, feet, or buckets for carrying water. I briefly considered digging a trench using my Mana Dusting Skill to carve a channel from the creek to the house. But that would have taken forever. Precious time that I didn’t have. Even if I was faster, there was a chance I might black out again – just like what happened with the tree. Besides, I still couldn’t ‘see’ the creek. It might as well have not even been real. My consciousness drifted back to the cottage.

I had an idea though. Maybe I could create something? I squinted at the screens. There really was a lot. Would a tree put out fires? No, Ethel, you silly goose. Trees are obviously only for emergency exits. But hey, there’s something I had absorbed a lot of: dirt! That could work.

I clicked on the option for dirt, half expecting it to pop out into existence all around me. Instead, it appeared as a soft blue, translucent cube, floating in the area before me. It reminded me of a ghost. Okay. What was I supposed to do with this?

I turned my attention away from it. The cube followed. I turned my attention the other way. It followed again. It was currently floating in the corner, up against the ceiling.

I don’t have time for you right now. Go away, ghost dirt!

It didn’t.

I gave it my best grandma glare. The best I could do as a rock. Unsurprisingly, that worked. It always does.

The blue cube lost transparency and it materialized into an actual cube of dirt. Which promptly fell. Right on top of one of a very large, fiery bee that happened to be crawling around on the floor. The cube collapsed into a pile that buried the bug beneath it.

Well. That’s one fire out. Albeit a small one.

Some words flashed in the corner of my screen briefly. It notified me that I had used one point of mana. Which left me with zero out of twenty.

I promptly blacked out.

When I awoke the fires had spread. Mostly in small, isolated, random spots throughout the dwelling. Probably from the bees flying around… Smoke had started to accumulate into the ceiling and the fire had spread into the upholstery. Things were looking bad. Not much time left if I want to put out this mess.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Ugh. That was not a fun nap. How long was I out? What century is it?

Judging by the rate that the fire had spread, I hadn’t been unconscious for long. Looking at my status screen, I had one mana out of twenty again. I guess that my mana recharged over time on its own. And that mana was used to create or grow things. That kind of made sense. Mass don’t come from nothing, ‘cept God.

Lesson learned: don’t make dirt without more mana.

I mentally slapped myself awake. I had another idea. Mana Dusting didn’t use up mana. And it turned stuff into smoke. Maybe that would work on fire! I found the closest flame to me: the rug in the middle of the living area with a skeleton sprawled awkwardly out upon it. I reached out with my mind, and tried Mana Dusting away the fire itself. Nothing. I tried lashing out, concentrating real hard, and even verbal assaults. Still nothing. Drat.

I pulled in my awareness as much as I could, just so I wouldn’t be distracted. As just an orb, I pondered for a moment. I even tried looking over my screens and some of my options. Maybe I missed something. I even tried turning off and on some of the options in my menus. One of those was listed under Powers in my stats. Weary Bone Aura had a toggle. I flicked it on and off like a light switch. There was a brief moment when I thought I heard someone screaming and moaning in the background. But when I looked up from my screens there was nothing but bones. Weird. Must have just been the roaring fire. I’ll leave it switched off for now, just to see if I notice any changes. Besides, why on God’s green earth would I want bones to ache? I had enough of that in my last life, no thank you.

Okay, this was not the right time to be playing around. Think, Ethel, think!

Wait just one minute! Fire is a chemical reaction. It’s basically already smoke. Of course I couldn’t eat fire. But I could eat shit! Wait, no, that came out wrong. (Sigh. Look, pal, I dare you to try being a house on fire and see how well you do. It’s very stressful. I obviously meant I could try “eating” whatever mass is on fire before it spreads further.)

I reached out to the rug with my mind again, this time focusing on the actual rug instead of the fire. I swept out with my Mana Dusting Skill, taking a chunk out of the rug. It immediately combusted into that ugly yellowish, orange smoke, along with gray smoke from the fire that also got snuffed out. The two smokes entwined together and drifted lazily up into the rafters.

It worked! Ethel, you clever little minx.

Alright, let’s keep going. Don’t mind me, Mr. No-Jaw. Just stay where you are. Because for whatever reason I wasn’t able to Mana Dust his bones. Instead, I lashed out with wild abandon at the woven rug beneath the skeleton. Bit by bit, the fibers went up in yellowish, orange smoke. Slowly, but surely, the fire died out. It had nothing left to consume. The rug was completely gone. Along with the floor beneath it. Or more specifically, the trapdoor hidden beneath the rug. There was a heavy groan of wood bending and snapping…

Maybe I went a little overboard…

There was a final creak, the hinges gave way, then the trap door beneath the body collapsed inwards, plummeting the skeleton down a dark set of stairs leading into the basement. It tumbled down the steps with the loud crunching of bones.

I’m sure that’s fine… I mean, how was I supposed to know that there was a secret trapdoor hidden beneath the rug? But hey, I put out the fire in that spot! Along with some of the evidence of my potential crimes.

Oh, exactly what I needed right now. A cheery attendant lady. I almost missed you. Almost.

I looked up from my work. I had gotten distracted by working on that one spot for too long. The isolated fires had started combining. The entire kitchen and pantry was now a blazing inferno. The house was beyond saving. I would have to erase the entire house from existence to just put out the fires.

But I still had to try, right? I could at least do some damage control.

I bounced my consciousness between all areas, placing a little bit of attention everywhere, but mostly prioritizing the areas around any support beams or rafters. If the house collapsed, I wasn’t even sure I would be able to survive that wreckage.

Flames tickled the edges of the roof. I didn’t know much about thatching, but it looked like not much more than tightly bound straw. I assumed that if any large embers got in there, it was all over. There would be nothing left. Anytime I noticed a large ember lodge itself in the thatching I immediately tore through the material, preventing it from spreading further. Otherwise, I tackled the kitchen area, since that seemed to be the worst off. I “ate” through the wooden cabinets, paper recipe books, and wooden bowls - fighting fire with smoke. As I went along, the work went easier and I got more into the groove. And, by golly, it was working! The flames snuffed out as I brushed away the burning matter into non-existence.

When I was done, the bottom of my vision was filled with notifications in bold letters, in one continuous scroll, like a news report on TV.

Thankfully, the chipper flight crew member only said the final level skill increase out loud.

Woohoo! Level those skills, baby! I had actually noticed that the work became easier and faster as I went along. At this rate I’ll be able to Mana Dust any object in seconds. This will be a piece of -

Attendant lady interrupted my thoughts with another announcement.

I beg your pardon? I cut my celebrations short, mentally shoved aside the new menu screens that were popping up, and pulled my awareness back to survey the entire cottage. I expected only disaster, but found both good and bad news. The good news was that the fire was finally gone. Yay! The bad news was that so was most of the house…

Which apparently was a cause of celebration for my tormentors. That irked me. I found it curious that the attendant lady hadn’t used plural language before. But now she did. Was she speaking for an entire flight crew? If so, this flight was on a path to hell with me as the only passenger.

I mentally sighed. Black smoke filled the air. Ash coated the floor in thick clumps. The wardrobe was nothing more than a pile of soot. The bees were husks. None of the charm or decor remained. A couch had collapsed upon itself as a smoking ruin.

Overall, not much remained. But it could have been worse. A lot worse. The stone hearth that held my core and the adjoined chimney were fireproof, as expected. The foundations and most of the floorboards still stood, leaving the basement untouched. Parts of the walls and baseboards still held, since parts were made of stone or brick. And the thatched roof and rafters, miraculously, still covered the house, aside from some patches I hastily tore out. All things considered, the essential framework of the cottage still stood. Even if the attendant ladies disagreed with my assessment.

Besides that, all that remained was an innocent looking, shiny rock sitting in a fireplace. Surrounded by evil green fire. With most of the house burned down. And a few corpses laying about.

Would the homeowners assume little old me had caused all this? Or the authorities? Eek. Maybe? I don’t know!

Okay. New plan: hide the bodies.