When I See Fire

by Mark Holme

  The film started innocently enough, the build-up was mundane but effective. It made you care about the characters just long enough, before they were all exterminated like rats. It had a snuff film feel from this point, dodgy camera work and realistic effects. Trust me I know just how realistic they were. They never quite capture the true fear of someone as they are about to die, yet they manage to over compensate for the amount of blood spilled.

  Leonidas practically curled up in to the foetal position, grabbing onto Amy's hand so tightly it hurt her. She will have bruises on her skin for weeks. Tears rolled silently down his face, but he remained silent as the night. It was hard to tell if Amy showed sympathy or fear at his reaction. The film was designed to scare you, not bring you weeping to your knees.

  I restrained so hard from mocking him, it takes a lot of effort to block my words from his memory. He will remember everything in the end. Even for a human Leonidas is pathetic. Adolf killed 1.1 - 1.5 million humans within five years at Auschwitz, without feeling anything at all. That's what men are capable of, truly inspiring feats. That breaks down to 300,000 dead a year. 821 lives a day. 34 people every hour. That's impressive. Even if his methods were barbaric, without any sophistication at all. I can admire that figure. I can aspire to that figure. Yet even 1.5 million people would not satisfy my desire to hunt.

  Leonidas cried after killing twenty-one swine because of a fictional film. Pathetic little man. Even for a human.

  You still don't realise just how worthless you are do you? In comparison to the scale of the universe you are less than a micro-organism living on a speck of dust. You are invisible and silent. I will live forever.

  I must decide quickly what to do with Amy, is it crueller to make Leonidas watch her die or watch her walk away?

  Chapter 14

  The Mosaic of Mona Lisa

  Was anything going to go right for Jack? He was so close, yet he felt like he was at the opposing side of the world. Such a novice mistake, to not check the sound is recording on the system. It was almost as bad as not maintaining your wife's happiness. Man to mouse he was useless.

  He did not even want to think how the other detectives mocked him. A pack of vultures laughing at his misfortune. Who knew about his failure as a detective? Who knew about his failure as a husband?

  Not a hint of surprise touched Jack's face as he drove home headed to his still empty home. An apartment oozing with sadness, from ceiling to floor.

  He desired to sit on the cosy brown sofa, watching the TV crackling and trying to convince himself to stand up. To stand up and pick up his murder notes.

  Kill them. Kill them all. It does not matter to me anymore, I surrender boy. I give in. Kill me if you wish to. I am rude, I fit your target. We all do.

  Something that really pains me is the destruction of beautiful things. Those army officers destroying Amy's beauty in the alley way. The news reporters refusing to show the beauty of my art. I am going to tell you a tale now, a tale of bravery and beauty.

  It was the 7th May 1945, Prague, Czechoslovakia. The old town hall contains more history than some libraries, with a rich renaissance ceiling. A truly outstanding piece of art. Outside the hall amongst the tall colourful buildings and multi-coloured cobbled street stands the astronomical clock. A clock that informs the reader of the time of day, the zodiac sign and the light available to them. A very intelligent mechanism from centuries ago. I believe this is where Hitler made one of only two mistakes. The other being not to wipe out an entire race. He chose to charge the town hall with all its beauty and history. To destroy that beautiful ceiling. However the defendants of the hall decided to protect the ceiling; it was so precious to them that during times of preparing the defence, someone took the time to paint over it in white to hide it from the Germans. Somehow the town hall survived, blown to bits, but some walls remained vertical. The art? It remains hidden until this day.

  That would kill Leo. His art lying hidden for all eternity. He needs it framed upon a wall so that all can look in awe at his marvel. So all could look on and bear witness to great teaching; a teaching of the failings of mankind.

  Perhaps he is right; perhaps we have gone too far to ever be forgiven for our mistakes. Any gods or greater beings have surely given up on us entirely, if you have tried raising a child you will know the difficulties involved. Imagine trying to raise seven billion.

  Seven billion angry, disobedient and unintelligent beings. In all the years you have occupied this land you have not learnt to share. Naughty little children. You allow people to starve, willingly, you may give money when it is called upon you to do so, but how many of you have actually tried making a difference using your own initiative? Even animals are not so cruel as to let each other starve. A beast of the African planes would either kill or help a wounded animal. You record it and laugh. Stand in a position of power and abandon those in need, then have the hard faced wit to pray to a greater being for help. I may kill all of you. I may not. Either way you all deserve to die. You must learn this, you must believe this. Leonidas is right I do want my art upon the wall in a shiny silver frame, not out of vanity, but out of a necessity to convey to you the realities you avoid. Monsters.

  Jack stomped up the staircase to his apartment, hoping that if he made a loud enough echo his anger would somehow dissipate through it. This boy will be found. He will be imprisoned forever.

  Detective Spencer knew the chances of his killer going to prison were very slim. He would be put in solitary confinement, with room service and a view. He could be put in the Greater Manchester Mental Asylum for the Criminally Insane. He would be pitied for the pains caused within his mind, the murders he had caused almost completely forgotten. An intriguing lab rat. A murderous monster.

  Have you ever wondered what human flesh taste like? I must admit I have acquired a certain taste for it. It is just like any cut of meat, it all depends on the freshness and location of the cut. Believe it or not perfectly fresh flesh is disgusting; it’s the blood you see, it has that copper taste - you know it to be true. Leave it a day or maybe even two, refrigerated well of course, and the meat is supreme. Particularly the cheeks. They have a certain sweetness to them. Potato bravos and smoked cheek is delicious. Another aspect of human flesh that may surprise you is the varied taste that is controlled by the animal’s diet. Some undesirable creatures are very salty, they need to be soaked in water over night to remove the tang; others are very sweet, almost like a dessert. Ear lobes are another delicacy I desire most profusely.

  Jack’s door stood before him, the crying of Felicity could be heard through the dark wood, a sound that both angered and destroyed Jack.

  When he entered she was sitting on his sofa, rocking slowly, the room around her destroyed as his two daughters sat huddled in the corner. Scared of their own mother.

  “Jack...”

  “Do not expect sympathy from me, what you have done will never be undone, hard years lie ahead for both of us, but know that they are upon your shoulders”

  “DO NOT BE SO VEIN, NOT EVERYTHING I DO IS ORIENTATED AROUND YOU! OUR SON IS MISSING JACK!”

  Fliss let out a great wale of agonising sorrow, to which Jack could not help but comfort. He knelt down beside Fliss and wrapped her in his strong arms.

  “I’ll phone the police, then we will search the area, he’s only a child Fliss, he won’t have gone far”

  Jack’s poker face served him well, inside he feared that John had been taken by his killer. That he was already dead.

  “You? Why would you help me?”

  “Not everything I do is orientated around you Fliss, I am not helping you, I am helping us.”

  My mouth salivated at the thought of it.

  Rumbling along the country lanes my black side panel van shook like a washing machine that needed replacing. The high pitched screaming from the back was just sneaking through amongst the Top 40 chart countdown. I hummed along, content with my days work.

  A particular
ly high pitched scream reached its way into my ear. The electrical signals transported to and through my brain, converted into something that made sense: Turn up the volume. It makes my existence easier if I keep Leonidas happy.

  Gloved fingers reached for the dial, just as the song changed. Happy by Pharrell didn’t seem appropriate somehow. I pushed in the CD that dangled out of its slot above the volume dial.Beethoven’s symphony no.9.

  The symphony of Leo’s Life. A two minute glimpse with a dark and terrible start, followed by brief glimpses of hope brought crashing down by even darker regions of terror. Sure there are brief moments of happiness, but in the end it is all gone.A song long and loud enough to drown out the terrifying screams from the trunk.

  Even in England there are areas of beauty, the winding country roads sweeping through the untouched green mounds. Rays of yellow squeezing through the grey mass of cloud that never truly fades away. A little patch of goodness in a world of cruelty.

  I can still hear the beast in the back, kicking and scratching at the walls.

  Leonidas’ dad was a terrible man, a religious fool who stood on the edge of salvation then jumped off a cliff. I never understood why he didn’t fight against his accusations more. He must have known what he was being accused of when he was pinned to the Star of David.I suppose it is only evolution at its best. Survival of the fittest.

  He was there for it all, for V-day and the celebrations. The great Jew burning. All the highlights, then he joined in the burning a bit too much and ended up as ash.

  He was staring in the face of the Mona Lisa and wincing in disgust. A deranged man.

  Of course you must have seen the Mona Lisa at some point in your pointless life.The Mona Lisa is a half-length portrait of a lady by the great Leonardo da Vinci, acclaimed as “the best known, most sung about and most parodied work of art in the world”. The greatest image the world has ever seen, until now.Alleged to be the image of Lisa Gherardini, oil on a white poplar panel painted between 1503 and 1506. Though perhaps the great Leonardo may have continued working on it for up to eleven years after this date, perfectionism must never be unappreciated. It is currently owned by France, the tiny 77cm x 53cm portrait on display at The Louvre Museum in Paris; housed there since 1797.

  Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci. April 15, 1452 – May 2, 1519.Painter, sculptor, architect, musician, mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, botanist, and writer. The most diversely talented man to have graced the earth. One of the few men to have ever lived that I would not tear to pieces, capable of dragging a generation years into the future. Though of course his peers did not believe most of what he said.

  It is hard to imagine a man so intelligent that he can describe something that you cannot fully comprehend.If someone descried to you exactly how the afterlife was decided, would you think they are a genius or a madman? Or how to teleport through time and space and species and planet and gender and sexuality? I am telling you exactly how to solve all your problems, how do you perceive me?

  We have conversed about self-image previously, who you are, who you think you are, and who you think others think you are. I am Leo. Leonardo da Vinci.I am Leo. Leonidas and the 300. I am Leo the salvation.

  In the past superior humans have gained titles of gratitude; Richard the Lion Heart for example. One day very soon you will realize I deserve such a title. Seconds afterwards you will realize just how many humans must die.

  Alas I have deviated from my original tale, distracted by your stupidity.I slammed the garage door shut and left the engine running so the scratching sounds were not so obvious to you fools passing by.

  I was taking a great risk bringing her to my own home.

  I slowly opened the metal doors at the back of the van, stepping around the tools Leonidas’ dad had left him.What happened next impressed me, though it was futile.

  Amy Wolf beaten and bruised scratched and worn charged at me like a rhinoceros, knocking me backwards over a heavy metal tool box.

  Stepping over me she banged on the door, the echoing tin sound barely reaching the end of my driveway. I grabbed her leg with one arm and yanked, like pulling a fish out of a pond; she wriggled as she fell. Her beautiful face bounced of the motor of a chainsaw leant against the corner.

  She woke with wide eyes; tied by barbwire to a wooden Star of David, staring up to the corrugated metal ceiling of my hand built wooden garage. Her mouth was held closed by the meat cleaver I had pressed against her lips.

  Underneath her, where her eyes could not reach, the gas hummed ready to explode. Ready to burn. I had created a large Bunsen burner, about the size of a ten month old human baby. The Lady Jew would burn. Beneath my brown brogues a gold piano peddle lay silently, an accessible trigger for my flame.

  The star lay about a foot from the ground.

  Amy’s eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, I livened her up a bit by pressing down my foot. Despite myself I could not help but giggle as the skin on her back began to darken.

  “Amy, before you die my love, I must ask you one last favour, see it as a token for saving you from those monsters in the alley way.” I kissed her on her forehead, just to remind her of her feelings for Leonidas. “Amy my dear, you must say three words for me, you must say I love you”

  Without a pause, as though she was finishing off my sentence for me she spoke the words, and I recorded them with the phone held behind my back.

  “I really do Love you Leonidas, but we could have never been together. You’re not ready for Love”

  These words she was not so eager to speak. I had to hold the burner very close to her stomach, I’d estimate around an inch away, before she finished her speech to perfection. Imagine Leonidas’ reaction when he discovers not only is his love dead, but she has walked away from him also.

  I promised I’d let her live if she said it perfectly.

  “I’m afraid I have deceived you Amy, I do not love you, I saved you so I could destroy you myself. You will die soon, but first you will burn.”

  I held my foot to the concrete floor. The flame erupting over her flesh like spray paint on a brick wall. Her screams drowned out by Mozart. I smiled so much my cheeks began to ache; moving the flame over her like I was browning a meringue. When she was at deaths door I removed the heat.

  I have heard the phrase before “coloured” to describe someone with dark skin. The person’s response to this was that “light skin is red when it is cold, yellow when it is bruised and tanned when it is burnt. I am not the coloured one in this conversation” I must admit I quite agree. Amy’s skin was many different colours from black to peach with some yellow tinges in places.

  I carved her skin using an old fashioned wood filer, the kind with a metal handle and metal razor blade that slices layers of brown. It is usually used to get a door to fit a frame. How suitable, that it should make Amy fit so perfectly into my plans.

  I had removed nearly all her skin before she died from her injuries; I had just started on her face. It took hours to clean all the blood from her flesh, almost as long as it took to cook her lungs.

  How beautiful it was when I had finished, a genius idea, even by my own standards. Something so revolutionary that it will never be truly appreciated for centuries.

  Her multi-coloured skin cut into jigsaw shapes and arranged perfectly. The Mona Lisa is great. The Mona Lisa Mosaic is perfection.

  While you take the time to imagine my fleshy art masterpiece I have something else to share. This is top secret, just between you and me. Leonidas must not find out, not yet. There is another filthy human in this household. A disgusting little beast tied up behind the gap between the back of the refrigerator and the underside of the stairs. Each limb bound with iron chains, like dog leads pinned to the steps of the staircase. He slept elevated inches from the floor, a position close enough to the floor to allow him to reach both his water and left over food bowl. A creature by the name of John Spencer. I have rename
d him now. I have named him protégé.

  Chapter 15

  V-Day and Beyond

  Seventy years of glory have led to this day.Seventy years after the Great War, we are finally approaching the peak of humankind. V-day celebrations will never be seen again, a one of party that will reverberate throughout centuries like the fires of Pompeii and the Black Plague. Hitler lined the streets with the dead allied forces, then held street parties that literally danced on their graves. He had book burnings on every corner. A glorious man ecstatic with victory.

  The gold and riches poured into Germany like the red blood flowed down the Nile. A truly prosperous time had awoken. When the celebrations died down and the noise from the streets turned into echoes, Hitler began his next party trick.

  Auschwitz and all the concentration camps were emptied, dispersed across the German empire. It took but a week to have them scattered from Sweden to Wales. German soldiers close behind them.

  Just as the filth thought they had been shown mercy he sent out order number 001. Burn all Jews. It was a sport such as the world will never see again. All of Hitler’s Empire was shown his power and they bowed at his feet; several tried to defend the scum but they were thrown on top of the ash pile. The smell was divine.It goes down in history as The Great Jew Burning. Millions murdered because they deserve to die, no mercy, no pity, no hope. Religious brown haired scum. Of course some of the Jews survived, hidden by the rich and prosperous. The foolish and weak. So many families destroyed forever. A righteous passage for mankind.

  It was as the celebrations were fading that Hitler turned on America, killing Roosevelt in private but having the image of his decapitated head put on a4 posters everywhere. The British had the famous 'you're country needs you' posters. The Germans mocked it placing the words 'you're country doesn't need you'.The Americans hated the German Empire, but what could they do?