If you asked his coworkers Logi had been… off for at least a couple of days. It wasn’t anything someone could pin down, his eyes seemed to long for something, and he was twitchy and out of focus. Yes, Logi was certainly off, and it was starting to scare the lower-level workers. He had been snappish, lashing out at people for the better part of a week
It was with a fair amount of trepidation that the majority of the office watched Logi practically stalk out of the building, his black eyes seeming to glint orange for half a second as he walked out into the sunset, his hurried but calm footsteps made their way to his car. He had a purpose in his steps, a man on a mission quite adequately described Logi at that moment.
Logi’s Sudan peeled out of his designated parking spot with a squeal of tires and swerved onto the road at an almost dangerous speed. He had plans for tonight, important plans. The inside of his car felt cold to him like the sun had deemed that its interior was unworthy of its warmth. It was driving him crazy but no matter how high he turned the heater he didn’t feel any warmer, He had felt like this since that night in the park.
It wasn’t just his body that was cold though, it was as if his blood had turned to ice, a cold slurry creeping through his veins. Logi only had one idea of how to stop the cold but for that, he needed to be home.
As soon as he had arrived at his house Logi practically sprinted to get changed, he needed to be as innocuous and anonymous as possible. He quickly changed into black cargo pants and a black turtle neck. He grinned as he slipped on a surgical mask, his smile threatening to split his face in twain. Logi definitely couldn’t take his car to where he was going so he would have to walk, it was a couple of miles away so he prepared for a long jog and set out. He would feel warm again
,,’\_/’,,
No one would say the corner of Hegtot Street and Muls was clean, trash lay forgotten over the sidewalk, old leaves clogged the storm drains, and metal trashcans were littered around in a failed attempt to clean up the street. There was a drugstore on that corner and it was an open secret that they didn’t just carry over-the-counter items. Logi shuddered as he remembered how he knew that, living as far away as he did, before shrugging off the memory and walking past the corner and further onto Muls St.
Logi came to rest at an old rotting house. The house had been derelict for decades and was as the result of a clerical error registered as already demolished. The city had faced an earthquake right before they demolished the building and had forgotten about it in the clean-up. As such it was the perfect place for what Logi had in mind.
Wandering up as inconspicuously as possible Logi walked through the door, long since broken down by squatters, and started to look through the rooms. After making sure none of the aforementioned squatters were in the building Logi’s hands started to shake, not from fear but from excitement. A laugh echoed out from Logis's own mouth, a rough mad thing of joy at the prospect of what he was about to do.
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Carefully he began to smash the wooden furniture still left and started to build a bonfire, first the assorted splinters and leaves tracked inside, then the smaller pieces of furniture, and finally the largest pieces of couch and dressers. Logi looked out onto the monument of his ambition, a budding flower, the base of a future lay before him, and he was ready to make the flower bloom. Lighting a match he drew from his pocket Logi flicked the small fire into the center of his pyre with a perfect movement of his wrist.
He watched breath held deep within his chest as the first puff of smoke pushed itself free of the contents of his soon-to-be inferno, followed mere seconds by the first tongue of flame. Logi watched entranced by the iridescent fire blooming in his creation, as the fire grew, starting to spread into the dry surroundings. He had to take a step back as the fire roared to life in a sudden burst, the tips of the inferno started to lick at the ceiling.
He stayed there unmoving as the building around him started to catch. His eyes locked onto his construction, now more than ever its rows started to look like petals, a rose made of fire and ash. Even as the blaze spread around him, it never came close, there was a 5-foot circle of unburned ground all around Logi, the fire almost seemed afraid to come near… and yet, the tips of the fire all pointed to him, like they were drawn in. It wasn’t until the roof started to collapse that Logi moved.
He walked slowly but surely, the fire parting before him like the Red Sea had before Moses. The newly-born arsonist watched the strange phenomenon with great curiosity. He strode over to a wall and reached out towards the edifice, mentally urging the fire to stay and comfort him, to join him and warm him. He touched the fire and was mildly surprised to find it didn’t burn, no- instead, the fire sat in his hand, the perfect comfortable temperature. Logi watched as the fire inside his hand began to diminish.
He wouldn’t piece it together until later after he left the scene of his crime, the way even without the fire there, it still warmed him, like a blanket laid under his skin. Until then, however, Logi realized that he needed to leave soon. A spike of despair pushed through him at the prospect of leaving this place where he was warm for the first time in a week, But Logi was rational. He needed to leave before the fire department came and left him there down a fire and up a pair of cuffs. Yet with his pain, the fires spiked higher and hotter. Leaving him with just a bit more warmth as he hurried out the back door and onto the street across from the backyard.
Logi was just in time to hear the sound of sirens from the fire department and to avoid the gawking gazes of the crowd gathered outside the house to watch the all-consuming inferno and pillar of smoke that lifted from the house. Quickly he took off, though not before watching part of the house’s roof cave in, and get one last whiff of the ash hanging in the air, as to finish his “jog”.
A broad smile spread across Logi’s face as he thought of his accomplishments, not even realizing as he picked up speed, and was within 15 minutes sprinting, the ground whirring past him as his speed increased, unaware of the near record-breaking speeds he was running at without effort.
That building marked the first blaze of a wildfire, the first, not largest, nor the smallest, and by no means the last, but instead the herald of the great fire descending upon Logi’s city. It was a fire that would be remembered as the first sign of the burnings to come.