Sometime near two thirty AM, a spark, from the boiler, wakes up and jumps over to a piece of insulation. Alive and curious, it soaks into the wall and rounds a corner. It stretches out and touches everything within reach, grabbing, and feeling, wrapping around and consuming it until the tiles in the hallway sparkle with a devilish glint. Then, in an instant, it is everything; an inferno. It rages through the halls and into classrooms, it shreds textbooks and smashes desks. Pencils, rolled beneath furniture are blackened before fading into flames. In supply cabinets, paint boils and cracks, and on the walls it withers and coils. The fire tears through ceilings and licks at the rafters, charring them with its breath; batters against windows, which buckle and split. And it keeps going.
“Seriously, though, make sure you understand what you’re getting into. This is both dangerous and illegal.”
His words echoed in the stiff silence, along with the distant whistles from the highway.
