The thief broke in through the kitchen window, his intention clear. 

Confidently clothed in bright yellow, hot red and scorching orange, he wasn’t an ordinary criminal,yet despite his outlandishness, he shared the usual characteristics—he was notorious, infamous, and always lurking around, waiting to strike.

 He wasn’t loyal, he knew no boundaries, no ethics; he took what he wanted, uncaring of whom what he stole belonged to or the hurt it would cause in the aftermath.

He was unbiased and undiscriminating. 

He was dangerous, deadly . . . a perpetual menace to all.

 As he greedily blazed his way inside of Mrs Walker’s old chattel house robbing her of her few possessions, he felt no sympathy, no compassion or empathy.

 Only a sense of manic rage and greed fuelled him on his rampage, encouraging him to take more and more, consume more and more, in his urge to quench a hunger that was never easily filled, never satiated once it got started. 

He needed more. 

He spread his burning hunger from her kitchen where he had taken her appliances, to her living room, claiming the hanging art, her vases, her furniture and rugs. 

Even as he gleefully divested Mavis Walker of her worldly possessions it wasn’t enough. 

He needed more. 

He moved onto her bedroom, his heat stripping away all that was in his way as he crept up silently to her bedroom door, raging there.

He was a meticulous thief. 

Filled with heat, fury and rage, he was still as quiet as a mouse as he stole everything from her. 

 Only the small, crackling sounds accompanied him on his spree, and so Mavis, fast asleep in her small bed, had no idea that she was being robbed.

She had no idea she was in danger because of this deadly, voracious presence within her once secure and joyful home.

She had no idea that this thief was at her door, waiting to take everything from her that night.

Soon, his mistress accompanied him, following along blithely with the fiery coloured thief, happily joining him on this heist.

She was not dressed as outlandishly as he, instead had settled on sombre grey, wispy white and plumes of black as she always did whenever he called. 

Excited by all they had managed to take from Mavis, they still wanted more!

Her smokey scent screamed through  the house, thick and choking, burning thickly with her excitement at the thief’s loot.

This scent was the calling card of their unique criminal propensities, a cheeky signal that they had grown bolder, unafraid of consequences and that they were taking everything!

Unfortunately for Mavis, these two unwanted presences in her home were hopped up on a pervasive oily drug that only heightened their madness, and appetite. 

With alarming speed, and tacit agreement they moved throughout the wooden structure, gutting it, consuming greedily until, unchecked and impassioned, they overtook the entire house.

They crept to Mavis' door, where she was asleep, the only sounds punctuating the still night were those of her choked off coughing.

Sneaking in, they pulled her further into unconsciousness poisoning the air around her, so that she struggled to breathe.

 Every breath she took felt choking, clogging and burnt. 

 Something was wrong!

Her panicked mind tried to scream at poor Mavis but it was for naught, her weakened body couldn't move.

 Even as the room felt increasingly hot and smothering she couldn’t pry her eyes open.

Something was keeping her unconscious, unable to move her limbs, unable to do anything but feel uncomfortably trapped in her own body, mind awake but unable to do anything about it. 

After what felt like an eternity, she managed to slowly and sluggishly awake enough to push up an eyelid. 

 Her heart stopped the instant she saw them. 

They were coming for her, bold and brash with their villainous intentions, they were upon her before she could even think, robbing her of not only her house but her life as well…and there was nothing she could do about it.

In that heated and suffocating instant her life past and present flashed in a rush before her and all at once she was hit with the most terrible clarity.

Her house was being ravaged by fire and so was her body. 

Her screams pierced the now fiery walls of her house and as the last of the wood burnt and died, so did she.   

  “Fire! Fire!” A man screamed, horrified by the furious flames completely engulfing the old, wooden house.



 The man, Johnson, was a tall, big boned man who lived opposite Mavis Walker’s home. He had awoken in the middle of the night to use his toilet when he smelt the cloying, thick smoke, then he heard the licking sounds of crackling wood.

His stomach had dropped right to his toes, heart shattered into two before resurging with a fearsome jolt of extreme panic when quickly opening the window in his living room, he had been faced with a terrible nightmare. 

Mavis Walker’s home was on fire!

Racing back to his bedroom, he had snatched up his phone, and immediately called the Fire Station, waiting impatiently for the call to connect before he all but yelled, “ Mavis Walker’s house is on fire!”

The responder had done his best to calm the overwrought man, so he could get the address, some information on the extent of the fire and then gave the man some instructions to save the community. 

There was a question the responder had asked that had spread the most frigid of chills down poor Johnson’s back, cutting into him and making him bleed.

“Do you know if anyone is still in the house?”

And Johnson had almost dropped his phone. 

Was Mavis still in the house? Was she in there?!

Voice trembling he said, “ I-I don’t- I don’t know. She might be in there. Oh God, she might still be in there!” 

“ I’ve alerted and dispatched the fire truck and the ambulance. I’ll connect with the police next. You said the houses are close to each other. Wake up the community, get as many people out of the zone as possible. None of you approach the house. Do you understand? Responders are on their way!” 

 With that, Johnson had grabbed a pair of jeans from his chest of drawers, pulled on a random t-shirt and ran outside to wake up the community. 

He stalled for a moment, eyes widening at witnessing the way the house he had grown up seeing everyday was now being eaten alive by awful, terrible flames. 

“Mavis' house on fire! It on fire! Help! Help! Fire!” he yelled, his voice filled with terror and panic as he tried to alert the neighbourhood to the emblazoned horror he had woken up to that night.

The neighbourhood was an old one and homes were not far from each other. If one caught on fire, all the others would go up in smoke as well. 

With no time to waste, he raced up and down the road yelling at the community, feeling only slightly relieved when he saw the tell-tale signs of some rooms abruptly filled with yellow lights. 

Huffing and puffing with his exertion, he banged on some of his neighbours door to wake them up, yelling as loudly as he could while he did.

He felt grateful when almost immediately a bewildered, and barely awake crowd formed, initially shocked to see the house burning to a crisp, but it was only when they heard the screams coming from inside the inflamed structure, that the spell broke and all terror truly broke loose.

 People scattered to find buckets while others found hoses and called the fire department- again- and the ambulance service. 

They knew those screams belonged to the old lady, Mavis Walker,  but no one could hope to enter the house as it was still engulfed in angry, visions flames. 

Horrified and filled with a desperation akin to nothing they had ever experienced at realizing one of their community was being murdered, they worked even faster, even harder to put out the flames, but it wasn’t enough.



No matter how many buckets of water they tried to douse the area with, the fire just ate them up.

There were tears, screams and an overwhelming feeling of morose despair and impotent anger as they did their best to at least clear a path so they could reach the small elderly lady. 

The roaring heat coming from it willfully defeated the efforts of the men and women who were trying to combat it. 

Terrified, the community still toiled away tirelessly, even as they collectively prayed that the fire truck would arrive soon, as the blazing inferno continued.

The neighbourhood was engulfed in thick, heavy smoke, while the burning wood spewed thick, black ash all around them. 

They continued to work even harder, fearing deep down that this fire had stolen an important part of their community and lives, when the screams from inside stopped and a chilling understanding descended into their hearts.

 By the time the authorities arrived, the fire was still raging and the community, despite their best attempts, had only just managed to keep the flames from spreading to the other homes. They were relieved to see the fire services' big red truck arrive on the scene so quickly. 

They watched as fire-fighters jumped from the truck and immediately got to work. They were heroic in their efforts to extinguish the fire, even though the house could no longer be saved. 

As the fire men raced to hose down the flames, someone from the scattered crowd shouted, “Mavis! I think Mavis is still in there!”

The firemen rushed to make an entrance and as soon as there was a safe passage, they burst into the house, looking like knights sent to combat a big, bad, fire breathing dragon of lore. 

 The crowd held their collective breath and prayed very, very hard for good news, eventhough, deep in their hearts, they knew devastation and loss was imminent.

Soon the flames were extinguished, leaving behind a barely standing house frame. 

To the horror of her neighbours now gathered in small groups, the charred remains of Mrs Walker were wheeled out in a body bag, amidst the chaos of the firemen putting up their hose and tools, and the arrival of the police and what looked to be the coroner.

 All had arrived with their sirens blazing, adding to the further cacophony of chaos to be found in the small residential area of Baker's Lane.

Tears flowed from neighbours, while others stared in shock at the chaotic scene. 

 Mavis Walker, though old and possibly suffering from dementia, had been a pillar of the community for as long as they could remember. 

She and her family had contributed to the well-being of that tiny neighbourhood for years. They had been the babysitters for their children and always lent a hand to anyone in need. 

Mavis and her late husband had represented the love of the community and this abrupt, vicious death had shocked them all, immediately plunging the neighbourhood into a deep, terrible mourning.

 As the smoke continued to surround them and ash swirled around in the atmosphere, those who were still outside watched as the house breathed its last and with a loud groan, simply collapsed.

Ms Bryan, with tears in her eyes, looked at Ms Phillips and asked what everyone had been thinking since being shocked out of their sleep.

“What about John? Has anyone seen him?”

Ms Phillips morosely shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her heavy shawl closer, “Doesn’t look like he was home. He’ll be devastated.

Only five minutes later, they watched as John walked up the gap and stood frozen, watching smoke rise from the charred remains of what was his home, now burnt to the ground.

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