Fiction: The Tree

I struggled to keep my voice from cracking as I peered through the branches to yell down to my father standing on the ground.

"I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

My father lowered his head and didn't say a word. That was never a good sign. He was not one of those parents who yelled. He never yelled. He always spoke in a calm voice but if he stopped talking I knew I was in a world of trouble.

I climbed higher to see over the house. The ashes from the pig barn were still smoking. Grandpa was raking out the nails and bits that wouldn't burn. My parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles had all run out there when it was still blazing to keep it from spreading to any of the other buildings. My cousin Tony and I used that opportunity to scramble up into the tree. The danger to the barn and sheds was over, but that didn't mean I was safe.

Tony had found Uncle Jerry's Zippo lighter in the window sill on the back porch. Grandma wouldn't let him smoke in the house, so he always stepped out back to have a cigarette. My cousins and I usually followed him to see his lighter tricks. He could flick it open with one hand. He could snap his finger and make the fire start. Sometimes, he would hit it against his leg to start it. We loved those tricks and he had a hundred of them, but he would never let us try. He would say, "A lighter is not a toy" and put it back in his pocket. I never wanted to play with anything more than that lighter.

Earlier that day, Uncle Jerry set the Zippo in the window instead of back in his pocket. I didn't notice, but Tony did. He snatched it and showed it to me later. We didn't want to get caught with it, so we went to the old pig barn. Grandpa hadn't kept pigs for years, but he stored a few things in there. We crouched down behind the hay bales to try some of Jerry's tricks. When I dropped the lighter, it all happened very fast.

The hay on the floor caught immediately. Tony and I looked at each other in horror and ran out of the pig barn. My cousins Samantha and Emily saw the smoke and ran inside to tell the adults. We knew we were in trouble and shimmied up the tree on the other side of the house. When Jerry found his lighter in the ashes, they all knew what had happened. Tony and me cowering in the tree made us the prime suspects.

Our parents came to the tree and angrily demanded we come down. We started down despite knowing we were doomed. As soon as Tony swung his legs down, his dad grabbed him and spanked him all the way to the car. He threw him in the back seat and the family sped off. I could hear his mother screaming at him as they drove off.

I stopped my descent and retreated back to my original branch.

My dad narrowed his eyes and glared at me, "Get your butt down here now."

I knew what awaited me as soon as my feet touched the ground. Maybe even before then. "No. I'm never coming down."

Uncle Jerry showed up with a stepladder and my dad started up the tree. I climbed higher. I was younger and faster. He would not be able to catch me. Jerry called up to my dad, "You're just gonna have to wait him out." That was over three hours ago.

Every member of the family came out to coax me down, but I knew what would happen if I did. I didn't even come down for dinner.

By the time the sun set, everyone had gone home except for my family. My mother had begged me to come down and cried when I refused. Dad didn't even try to bargain. He just warned me to come down and take my punishment like a man. A punishment that was growing bigger and bigger the longer I chose to drag this out.

It had gotten very dark when Grandpa came out and set his hand on my dad's shoulder. "It's getting late. Take your little ones home to bed." My dad shook his head, "Tomorrow is Monday. He has school. I can't leave him here."

Grandpa reminded him of the stalemate we were in. My father agreed, but pointed out how happy it would make me to see him drive away. Grandpa said, "Don't worry about that." He pulled out his pocket knife and ambled over to the fence row. He cut off a long switch and whipped it through the air a few times so I could hear it swish. I have felt those switches before. This was not getting better.

Dad helped Grandpa pull a picnic table under the tree for Grandpa to sit at and he got comfortable with a Louis L'Amour western and a pitcher of lemonade. My dad gathered up my mom and sisters and they pulled out of the driveway.

With dad gone, I called down, "Grandpa, can Grandma bring me some of the chicken and biscuits. I haven't eaten since lunch."

Without looking up, he replied, "You grandmother is not talking to you or even coming outside. And you and I have nothing to discuss unless we are face to face." He poured himself another glass of lemonade and got back to his book.

I looked around for a thick branch to get comfortable on. This was going to be a long night.

---

This is NOT a true story. It was my first attempt at flash fiction. This story is a response to the prompt from the lovely Red at Doesn't Speak Klingon. The prompt was TREE.

Before I Was Free

I had hoped to have another post up this week, but it didn't happen. I have been writing posts for the A to Z Blogging Challenge and posting for this week got away from me. I promise this will be the last time I will use that challenge as an excuse. The challenge starts on Monday and I hope you will drop in every day to see what I come up with.

In the meantime, here is the post from one year ago today about me trying to escape from my family as a toddler. Tomorrow, I will post the results from this week's caption contest with Hitler.

---

I like to think that I have always been my own person. I have my way of thinking, my way of acting and my way of doing things (even if they don't always work). While I can respect the wisdom and knowledge of people that came before me, I like finding my own way. This started at a very young age.

Never a slave to conventional dress,
I found my style early on.

Much to my parents dismay, the pastel colors and little duckies on my clothes just were not acceptable to me. After much deliberation (mostly on their part since I couldn't talk yet), I compromised.

I was gangsta,
before gangsta was cool.

At the age of 18 months, I began to change my own diapers. This was not a modesty issue. We know from past posts, I still don't have any modesty. No, this was part of my unrelenting desire to become my own man.

I demanded this freedom in other areas of my life as well. I knew how I wanted things and would accept nothing less.

Had Mother fixed the steak I asked for,
this would not have happened.

My parents, being appreciative of the freedom I was offering them by my new independence, took advantage of the situation. Since I could take care of myself, they could go out and not have to worry about me. It saved money in babysitters and further taught me self reliance.

Against my wishes, they later decided this was not a good idea.

I invited the neighbor girls over,
but their mom said they were napping.

The cop took this picture after pulling me over.
I was on my way to buy more booze.

After the run in with local law enforcement, my parents had me under their oppressive thumbs and my life was relegated to the boring life of a toddler once again. I endured this for a little over a year before I saw my opportunity to escape.

One Sunday, my family was walking in the pasture behind my great-grandfather's house. It was a beautiful day and the birds were singing. All that open air made me yearn for the freedom that I knew I deserved. After all, it had been over three years since I had escaped from the suffocation of the womb. How long should I be expected to play the part of cute pet? I knew today was the day and began looking for my opportunity.

As we approached the top of a hill, I observed a wide open space before us. This was the place to make a break for it. If I could make it to the tree line, I could disappear and live off the land.

Being acutely aware of my short stature (darn stubby toddler legs), I knew I would need a head start in order to not be caught. The large descent before me would give me the opportunity to gain speed quickly. If the parental units could be distracted for a few moments, I would have the edge I needed.

I pointed at a cloud and babbled in that way that adults think are so cute. When they looked up, I bolted for the bottom of the hill. I was able to get close to the bottom before they realized I was gone. Only a few hundred feet more and I would be free forever.

I looked back and noticed that they had taken pursuit and were screaming for me to stop. They must have been aware of my intentions because they were much more frantic than usual. My father was closing in fast, so I concentrated on my departure.

Upon reaching the bottom of the hill, I tripped and sprawled forward. My tumble caused a white hot dust to come out of the ground. I quickly found it difficult to see and began to cough. I then realized that I had been duped.

My great-grandfather had anticipated my plan the night before and laid out a trap. He had burned a large brush pile after clearing out some trees. Knowing this was where I would most likely make a run for it, he placed it in the valley before the trees.

The entire pile had been burned to the ground and the only evidence of the preceding days events was the white ash on the ground. In my haste to get away, I had not noticed what I was running toward. The fire was out, but the coals were still crackling hot. My hands were now holding up the rest of my body from being burned, but my center of gravity did not allow for me to stand up and remove my hands from the burning.

Was this going to be the end? Would I slowly disintegrate into the pile eventually engulfing my entire body? I had underestimated the deviousness of my guardians.

My father snatched me out of the fire. I knew they were disappointed that the trap had not worked properly. He was going to throw me in and finish the job properly. I held my breath and waited for the heat, but it never came.

My father ran back to the house as the heat in my hands began to grow to intolerable levels. After a quick clean up, they rushed me to a hospital. The doctor's did horrible things and then bound me so I could no longer cause any trouble. My parents' plan to end my independence was complete.

I could no longer change my diapers.

Without the use of my hands, I had to humbly allow my mother to feed me and take care of my bathroom issues once again. I couldn't even use my toys. My life was going to be dependent on them forever.

My dog didn't even respect me any more.

Two days later, I was returned to the hospital and thrilled to learn that they were removing the hindrances that had been placed on me. However, my hands and fingers had doubled in size and were covered in blisters that stood over an inch tall. My hands still didn't work. Then they held me down and bound me up again.

They teased me this way every few days. The doctors would take them off and then replace them. I finally understood. They were trying to break my spirit.

After a few weeks, I falsely admitted compliance. Satisfied that I would not attempt escape again, they freed my hands. It was several years before I tried again.

It didn't go well either.

911 - Horror or Humor

I was a 9-1-1 Dispatcher for about 2 years. It was one of the most interesting jobs I have ever had. It was also an incredibly frustrating, yet fulfilling job. I got to assist in helping a lot of people, but also had to put up with mountains of idiocy. I received many ridiculous calls which I will get to in a moment, but first let me remind you what 9-1-1 is for.

9-1-1 was established to give people quick access to emergency personnel. This would make it possible to get in touch with the proper authorities quickly. The number is to be used for emergencies that require immediate assistance.

For example:

• Car crash with injuries
• Currently happening home invasion
• Domestic violence
• Person spotted with weapon
• Fight or riot
• Fire
• Medical emergencies

Inappropriate uses of 9-1-1

• Barking dogs
• Burglarized property
• Power outages
• Drug sales
• Loud parties
• Weather or road conditions
• Legal advice
• Keys locked in vehicle
• Car trouble

Despite the knowledge people have that 9-1-1 is an emergency number, most of the calls received are not emergencies. When people call in for trivial things, it ties up the lines and prevents real emergency calls from getting through.

I am not suggesting that people should not call the police, but 9-1-1 is for immediate emergencies. Even coming home and finding your home burglarized is not an emergency. The thieves have already left. No one is in danger. Call the police and they will respond, but save 9-1-1 for if you catch them still in your home.

The worst time to work was during major storms. Everyone would start calling in to get weather reports, ask when their power would come back on and inquire about what roads were passable. While trying to get these idiots off the phone, there is a surge of real emergencies happening. Cars are sliding off the road. Fires are breaking out. Power lines are going down. However, the lines are tied up with non-emergency questions often causing us to be unaware of actual situations that require our attention.

Despite how frustrating the non-emergency calls could be, sometimes they were quite entertaining. I never ceased to be amazed at the reasons people would call in. Here is a sampling of some of them I can remember. Some were actual emergencies, but most were not.

---

"You might want to get out here. There are two dogs in the street having a 'verbal argument.'"
"Do you mean they're barking?"
"No, it hasn't gotten that far yet."

---

"Is it illegal for my neighbor to install a security camera and point it at my house?"

---

"I have told my son to go to bed  three times and he won't do it. Please send an officer out to talk to him."

---

"Without asking me, my doctor implanted a device in my arm so I can be tracked by the CIA. That's illegal, right? Can I press charges?"

---

"My son is 14 and had a headache. I gave him some aspirin, but..."
"But what, sir. Is your son alright?"
"I swear I thought it was aspirin."
"What did you give him, sir?"
"It was my Viagra. His erection just hit the four hour mark where the commercials say you should seek help. He's crying that it hurts. What do I do?"

---

"The 12 year old kid up the street rides by my house every morning on his way to school. I have told him to go another way, but he keeps doing it. I don't want him on my street."

After several calls we went out to investigate. The kid's crime? He was black.

---

"The sun reflected off the metal trailer of the semi that just passed and blinded me. Get someone out here to stop him before he kills someone!"

---

"If a dog craps in my yard without my permission, am I allowed to shoot it?"

---

"I have a restraining order against my husband and every time I call him, he answers. He has caller ID and knows it's me. He's not supposed to be talking to me. Arrest him."

---

The guy across the street says the cops are on their way to arrest me for having sex in my front yard. I pay property taxes and can do what I want in my yard. It's my yard and my wife.

---

"I came home from work and found half a car in the ditch in front of my house. Can I keep it?

---

"I came home from work and caught my daughter having a naked video chat with someone on my XBOX. Can you tell me how to find out who it was?"

---

"Every week on trash day, my neighbor puts her trash can right next to mine. I don't want her garbage associated with my house."

---

"My girlfriend told me I couldn't do cocaine in the bedroom anymore. Can she say that since it is my house?"

---

My neighbor's dog attacked my cat again. I killed it and threw it through his bedroom window. Who do I report this to?

---

"Send the cops here now! Seven lesbians just jumped out of my daughter's window."

---

"My daughter just called me and said her boyfriend is beating her up!"
"What is the address?"
"Aberdeen. Please hurry!"
"Sorry, but we don't have an Aberdeen Street."
"No. Aberdeen, Texas!" 

---

"Some Indian guy just called here and asked for my social security number. I gave it to him and now my husband says I should call you to find out who it was."

---

"Please send an ambulance. My husband has a deep cut on his stomach."
"I'll send one right away. How did he get cut, ma'am?"
"Well...I stabbed him."

---

I loved that job, but it really knocked down my already low opinion of humanity.

Better Than Any Sleeping Pill

When I got off work yesterday morning, I was looking forward to getting to my bed. Working the midnight shift as a single parent gets a little challenging when it comes to finding enough time to sleep. I have no trouble falling asleep during the day, as I hear other people do, but parenting responsibilities get in the way.

Wake me at break time.

I get off at eight Tuesday through Saturday mornings. I have made arrangements to get Kirsten to school each morning, but I have to pick her up in the afternoon. She gets out of school at 3:30, so if I can be asleep by 8:30, I get almost seven hours. However, there are usually little things that chip that time away.

I may need to run to the bank, drop by the library, get my oil changed or go pay a bill. I try to do as many things as I can in one day, but it doesn't always work out that way. Many days, I am only able to get about five hours sleep. I can do this for a couple of days, but it starts to catch up to me pretty quickly. Yesterday morning was going to be a good sleep day.

My daughter was already out of school and had an event after school that even provided her with a ride home afterwards. I would be able to go to bed and sleep until I woke up. I had gone short for the last couple of days, so I was really looking forward to it. Plus, I knew that I would barely get four hours the next day, so I needed to be well rested going into the weekend.

As soon as I take my coat off in the house, I notice how cold it is. The thermostat showed 58 degrees. The pilot light on my furnace had gone out again. That happens occasionally. I re-lit it and went to bed. I don't even remember laying down. I was out immediately.

Some time passes and I am jolted awake by a knocking on my bedroom door. As soon as I sat up to answer, my chest and eyes were burning. I started coughing and was having trouble breathing. I stumbled to the door. As I opened it, the light from the hallway lit up the smoke that had filled the house, including my bedroom.

My son Christian had dropped by the house and was met with a wall of smoke when he stepped in. He had immediately woken me and told me that there was a lot of heat coming from the furnace. I opened the furnace doors and tried to turn off the gas, but the controls were too hot to touch. I got it shut down using a rag. The blue flames disappeared immediately, but I could see a red glow still coming from the interior of the furnace. At this point, I occurs to me that I will not be getting all the sleep I had been looking forward to.

Fearing my house was on fire, I called 911. They told me to get everyone out of the house. I suddenly became aware that I was still in my underwear. Since the house wasn't actually burning down around me, I got dressed quickly and then went outside. I could already hear the sirens. I started checking out the roof and piping coming out of it, but could see no smoke.

It took me about 30 seconds to realize how cold it was outside. I knew the fire fighters would not let me near the house again once they got there, so I held my breath and went back in to get my coat. While I was in there, I also grabbed my laptop and my phone. Still no flames, but I couldn't see through the smoke. I remember thinking, "At what point am I supposed to stop, drop, and roll?"

I step outside much happier now that I am not freezing and see the help arriving. Two police cars and three fire trucks fill up the street along with all my neighbors, who are coming out to investigate the excitement. I couldn't really explain it to them, because I was busy trying not to hack up a lung.

I cough out an explanation to the first fire fighter about what had happened as the others went inside. They determined that there was no fire, but the furnace was still very hot. The glowing I saw was probably glowing metal from the extreme heat.

They said the breaker to the furnace had blown in the fuse box, which means the blower was not running. The flames were building heat, but the blower was not distributing it through the house. I don't know anything about this stuff, but will attempt to explain it as I understand it.

Apparently, there are safeties in place to keep this sort of thing from happening. If the blower stops running, some little dude inside is supposed to notice and kill the flames. However, he fell asleep on the job or didn't show up for work and never turned the flames off. This allowed the heat to reach unacceptable levels. The same department must be in charge of my smoke detectors, because they never went off. Despite the battery change from six weeks ago. I'm going to make rabbit stew out of the Energizer bunny.

A few hours later, I was able to crawl back under the smoke saturated covers to go back to sleep. I was able to get a few more hours sleep and was immediately reminded of the events of the day when I woke up to the smell, a wheezing chest, and a splitting headache.

I am not one to usually play the "what if" game, but two scenarios come to mind. What if Christian had not dropped by?

1. The quickly increasing heat would have eventually caused a fire, burning my house down with me asleep in the back room.
2. Even before the fire started, the smoke inhalation would have probably already done me in.

I am truly amazed at how much smoke was in my bedroom and I didn't even realize it. The toxic gases lulled me into a deeper sleep than I have ever experienced.The deep sleep was nice, but not worth it in the end.

CHECK YOUR SMOKE DETECTORS, PEOPLE!

I Can't Get that TALKING HEADS Song Out of my Head

Saturday morning, I woke up excited to start the day since I knew I was going to be seeing Red again. I know we just saw each other on Wednesday, but we can't help it.

I take my shower and log on to Facebook as I do every morning and start scrolling down the Wall to see what has happened since the last time I was online. Being a Saturday morning, there were several people praising the fact that the weekend was here, a few people announcing their Saturday plans, the usual gripers and the obligatory pictures of someone's kid that no one cares about as much as the parents' think they do. However, the post from my next door neighbor did catch my eye.

Luckily, she stated "(not bretts)" so I knew it wasn't my house. I had heard the horrible storm the night before, but wasn't aware of this. I threw on some clothes and stepped outside.

I soon learned that there had been some excitement on my street throughout the night and I had slept through the entire thing. My neighbors had awoken to someone pounding on their door in the middle of the night. The heat from the fire caused their house to be in danger as well. They got out of the house alright, but their home sustained some damage.

Siding melted and cracked one of the windows

Despite the damage they received, they fared much better than the house on the other side.

The house on the left was significantly closer
and had a family of six inside.

The family got out alright and is now staying in a local hotel courtesy of the Red Cross. They lost all their clothing, most of their appliances and several other things.

The present story is that this fire was the result of a domestic dispute which ended with the boyfriend setting fire to her house to "show her."  I don't really know what happened, so I will not go into further details, but this is the general consensus in the neighborhood.

Well, he showed her. And the two families next door.

There was NO peace in this house that night.

Despite the fact that everyone seems to know that this was arson, there does not appear to be sufficient proof, so it looks like he will get away with it. I still do not know the entire story, but the whole thing disgusts me.

---

Beyond the damage done on my street, people keep asking me how I didn't hear all the commotion going on outside my house. There were fire trucks, police cars and sirens going off. There was an ambulance parked in my driveway. Windows were exploding and the whole street was outside watching.

I keep a fan near where I sleep to drown out noises. I don't want to be woken up by neighborhood kids playing outside my window. It's helpful when my daughter has a sleepover, so I am not kept awake by giggling girls. I've learned that it works a lot better than I ever expected.

You Can't Get Away From Your Family

I like to think that I have always been my own person. I have my way of thinking, my way of acting and my way of doing things (even if they don't always work). While I can respect the wisdom and knowledge of people that came before me, I like finding my own way. This started at a very young age.

Never a slave to conventional dress,
I found my style early on.

Much to my parents dismay, the pastel colors and little duckies on my clothes just were not acceptable to me. After much deliberation (mostly on their part since I couldn't talk yet), I compromised.

I was gangsta,
before gangsta was cool.

At the age of 18 months, I began to change my own diapers. This was not a modesty issue. We know from past posts, I still don't have any modesty. No, this was part of my unrelenting desire to become my own man.

I demanded this freedom in other areas of my life as well. I knew how I wanted things and would accept nothing less.

Had Mother fixed the steak I asked for,
this would not have happened.

My parents, being appreciative of the freedom I was offering them by my new independence, took advantage of the situation. Since I could take care of myself, they could go out and not have to worry about me. It saved money in babysitters and further taught me self reliance.

Against my wishes, they later decided this was not a good idea.

I invited the neighbor girls over,
but their mom said they were napping.

The cop took this picture after pulling me over.
I was on my way to buy more booze.

After the run in with local law enforcement, my parents had me under their oppressive thumbs and my life was relegated to the boring life of a toddler once again. I endured this for a little over a year before I saw my opportunity to escape.

One Sunday, my family was walking in the pasture behind my great-grandfather's house. It was a beautiful day and the birds were singing. All that open air made me yearn for the freedom that I knew I deserved. After all, it had been over three years since I had escaped from the suffocation of the womb. How long should I be expected to play the part of cute pet? I knew today was the day and began looking for my opportunity.

As we approached the top of a hill, I observed a wide open space before us. This was the place to make a break for it. If I could make it to the tree line, I could disappear and live off the land.

Being acutely aware of my short stature (darn stubby toddler legs), I knew I would need a head start in order to not be caught. The large descent before me would give me the opportunity to gain speed quickly. If the parental units could be distracted for a few moments, I would have the edge I needed.

I pointed at a cloud and babbled in that way that adults think are so cute. When they looked up, I bolted for the bottom of the hill. I was able to get close to the bottom before they realized I was gone. Only a few hundred feet more and I would be free forever.

I looked back and noticed that they had taken pursuit and were screaming for me to stop. They must have been aware of my intentions because they were much more frantic than usual. My father was closing in fast, so I concentrated on my departure.

Upon reaching the bottom of the hill, I tripped and sprawled forward. My tumble caused a white hot dust to come out of the ground. I quickly found it difficult to see and began to cough. I then realized that I had been duped.

My great-grandfather had anticipated my plan the night before and laid out a trap. He had burned a large brush pile after clearing out some trees. Knowing this was where I would most likely make a run for it, he placed it in the valley before the trees.

The entire pile had been burned to the ground and the only evidence of the preceding days events was the white ash on the ground. In my haste to get away, I had not noticed what I was running toward. The fire was out, but the coals were still crackling hot. My hands were now holding up the rest of my body from being burned, but my center of gravity did not allow for me to stand up and remove my hands from the burning.

Was this going to be the end? Would I slowly disintegrate into the pile eventually engulfing my entire body? I had underestimated the deviousness of my guardians.

My father snatched me out of the fire. I knew they were disappointed that the trap had not worked properly. He was going to throw me in and finish the job properly. I held my breath and waited for the heat, but it never came.

My father ran back to the house as the heat in my hands began to grow to intolerable levels. After a quick clean up, they rushed me to a hospital. The doctor's did horrible things and then bound me so I could no longer cause any trouble. My parents' plan to end my independence was complete.

I could no longer change my diapers.

Without the use of my hands, I had to humbly allow my mother to feed me and take care of my bathroom issues once again. I couldn't even use my toys. My life was going to be dependent on them forever.

My dog didn't even respect me any more.

Two days later, I was returned to the hospital and thrilled to learn that they were removing the hindrances that had been placed on me. However, my hands and fingers had doubled in size and were covered in blisters that stood over an inch tall. My hands still didn't work. Then they held me down and bound me up again.

They teased me this way every few days. The doctors would take them off and then replace them. I finally understood. They were trying to break my spirit.

After a few weeks, I falsely admitted compliance. Satisfied that I would not attempt escape again, they freed my hands. It was several years before I tried again.

It didn't go well either.

Stuntman Training #2 - Playing with Fire

It's all in the wrist.

My Uncle Kevin knew some of the coolest fire tricks. We would be sitting there talking to him and suddenly a big ball of fire would jump out of his hand. As we shouted, "AGAIN! AGAIN! DO IT AGAIN," he would quiet us and nervously look around. "No. I got away with it once. I don't want your mom to see me showing you." He acted like he was worried we would try to imitate it ourselves.

He had every reason for that concern. You can't show a boy something as cool as that and not expect them to try to figure out how to do it. It was actually a pretty simple trick. It only required a standard lighter. We soon figured out how to do with our hands, as well as, with our mouths, on the kitchen table, in our pants pockets or under the shirt of an unsuspecting friend. It was one of the earliest things we learned about how much fun fire can be.

Being fairly stupid adventurous already, we were more than eager to add fire to the things we were willing to play with and experiment on. Since we were determined to be stuntmen when we grew up, it only made sense that we familiarized ourselves with the dynamics of fire. Some of our other stuntmen adventures can be read here and here.

Kyle loved to set his hand on fire to get attention freak people out at parties. If we used the right accelerant, the fuel would burn quickly enough that the flame could be withstood for a few seconds before having to extinguish it. He might be standing in a crowd of people and his hand would burst into flame. He would calmly look at it and say something like, "Well, that's peculiar," and then pat it out and continue with the conversation he was having as though nothing had happened.

One Halloween, we decided to use this for a larger audience. A local Jaycees chapter had a Haunted Hayride and was taking volunteers to man the various scenes. Each group built their own scene and the tractor would pull a hay wagon full of screaming teenagers and families by for them to terrorize. Plus, as teenagers, it was an excuse to sit in the woods and drink beer all night.

The scene we came up with consisted of someone being burned at the stake. The wagon was far enough from the scene, we could put the person being burned behind the fire and make it appear that they were being burned alive. Once the people on the wagon could see us, we could start our scene and toss something in the fire to make the flames shoot up. Various people in our scene took turns being the one to get 'burned alive.' The crowd loved it, but we thought we would take it up a notch the next night.

Stick men shouldn't try this.
Wood burns too fast.

We spent the next day digging a large trench in front of our entire scene and filling it with wood. When the hay wagon would pull up, we would do our quick acting and light the stake while our victim screamed. Now that we had their attention, one guy would run along the length of the trench, pouring a fuel mixture over the burning coals. This created a quick wall of fire blocking out the rest of the scene.

Once the fire jumped up, a flaming man would come running out of the fire toward the wagon and disappear into the woods. The part of the flaming man was played by my brother Trevor. He played that part dozens of times for the next two nights. However, just like many of our other ideas, this didn't always happen the way we planned.

 Before starting that night, we experimented to get the perfect concoction of flammable material for the effect we wanted. After spraying our solution on his outer clothing, when he jumped through the wall of fire, he would ignite. The flames were big, but not so hot that he needed much extra protection. His head was exposed, so the crowd could see his face, but we had one problem. The fumes, flames and smoke made it impossible for him to see once he was lit.

Our solution? We discovered that about 30 feet past the wagon path was a creek. As long as Trevor ran straight, he would eventually fall into the creek, putting out the flames. From beginning to end, he would not be on fire for more than 8-10 seconds.

When the first wagon went through, we got exactly the reaction we wanted. People were so scared some of them tried to jump out of the wagon. It was a huge success. However, we had four more hours until the end of the night with a wagon coming every 10 minutes.

As the night wore on and our alcohol consumption excitement increased, we kept making the effect bigger and bigger. Trevor screamed louder and would stop and flail his arms more before proceeding past the wagon to the creek. After a couple of hours, one of the other members of our group decided he wanted to be a second flaming person as well. We figured two flaming people would be even scarier than one, so we agreed. Since Trevor's stunt required several costume changes (you can only burn clothes so many times before they fall apart), we had the extra clothing.

We only had 10 minutes between wagons, so we had to move fast. We covered them both in solution and Trevor quickly reminded him that he would not be able to see once he ignited. "Run straight and you will be fine." He assured himself and us that he could do it.

When the next wagon came around, we started our scene. The stake was lit and the screaming started. The pit was ignited with the wall of flame and our two human torches ran toward it to jump through. At the last second, the new guy changed direction as he jumped because he was concerned he would hit the wagon when he ran out the other side. In doing so, he collided with Trevor, knocking him into the pit and directly onto the burning coals.

As drunken teenagers,
we weren't adequately prepared

Although the new guy landed on the other side, he was sprawled on the ground. Still in flames, he jumped up and started running, but in his blinded state, was not headed toward the creek. Kyle quickly assisted Trevor, who was out of the pit, but still burning, while I chased down the runner. I knocked him down and started throwing dirt on him while he rolled around. We got the fire out, but not without the loss of some skin.

Trevor, who got the worst of it, had fabric burned into his skin, lost a good portion of his hair and was already starting to blister on his forearms. For the rest of the night, he had to use long sleeves to prevent further burning. Plus, with the new bald patches, he was much more frightening.

We won the prize for scariest scene.