Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 7

The start of my end begins when a some farmers and city people, living a few kilometers away, somehow
found out about my presence and decided to pay me a little visit. I’ll spare you the details (they’re too horrid
to share anyway) but it involved a lot of pitchforks and fire, from both sides. I got out of there but
unfortunately, I had gone crazy again and five men had lost their lives that day. Three hundred and twenty-
three. Forgive me.
By the end of the battle, I had ended up at the nearest train station and used the last of my money to pay for
a carriage. My last chance. Destination? Valladolid, Spain.
Once I arrived, it was night so I found a bench to sleep on near a church. Everything was fine so far, which
was a good sign. The next morning I wandered around a little bit and got to know the town. It was the best
place to start over. I could feel it. Walking past a flower shop, I saw that it didn’t have many workers so I
went to see if maybe I could get a job there and get my life back on track. The owner was pretty hesitant at
first but after some convincing, she said she needed someone to help her with deliveries so I took it.
Everything was going really fine. I mean I had a job and got to see more of Valladolid by doing deliveries all
over town. It was nice. But then came Wednesday, exactly four days after my arrival. I was almost done for
the day when there was a last minute order from some high-class person who needed the flowers to be
delivered urgently. So, I set out to find this person’s place. He lived right next to the church I slept next to
so it was kind of easy to find.
When I knocked on the door, I thought I was coming home that night. Whatever I called home. But
clearly, someone upstairs had other plans.
When the door opened, I saw a tall guy with a very familiar face.
“Hola. Si no se está quemando hombre.” He paused. I had no idea what he was even saying so I just let him
continue. “Te he estado siguiendo. Quemando todos esos lugares y matando a todas esas personas, ¿cómo lo
haces?”
“I’m sorry could you please repeat that, I don’t know how to speak Spanish.”
After that, it was just a blur, but for the sake of this, I’ll try to explain it. The guy must have punched me in
the face since I then found myself fighting him. And you the reader, the unknown must know by now that
anger is what triggers and fuels my sick powers. So while more and more men joined in beating me up, we
moved closer and closer to the church, and I was closer and closer to anger. Once I reached my limit, I must
have set something on fire because I found my lungs filling up with smoke. I felt close to losing
consciousness when the guys had suddenly stopped beating me up and started coughing as their lungs too
were filling up with smoke.
Next thing I know, the church started to blaze, red and fiery flames consuming it, soon erasing it from there
forever. The last thing I saw before what I thought was me dying was a single red rose turn to black as my
vision started to darken.
My heart stopped — And then started again.
I woke up in a daze. I didn’t know where I was but I certainly wasn’t myself. I had suddenly changed, or
maybe I just felt it. I was on the bank of a river. I looked back and saw smoke and ashes. It smelt off, like
something burnt, and I had the worst headache.
I remember then just looking into the pond and feeling shocked. I didn’t understand what or who I was
seeing. The image reflected from the river was of a scaly boy with wings. A boy with some sort of horns and
weird nostrils. I looked like a deformed snake. Some sort of demon.
Even though I was shocked and worried, it all made sense. Everything. I just understood it. These powers
were no coincidence. I was somehow turning into some sort of dragon-snake-demon-monster.
I remembered all my mixed feeling but that didn’t matter until I saw a torn up wanted notice with a sketch
and the words: FIRE DEMON; WANTED FOR KILLING SEVEN-HUNDRED AND MUST BE