Burning Demons

Bryson’s sheriff badge glowed in the reflection of the fire that tore through the colonial three storey house. The flames dimmed out the stars as he smiled at the screams coming from within. In the shards of glass that still clung to the frames he could see the red light of the fire truck approaching. He dropped the matches on the ground and walked down the lane, hands held high towards the approaching truck.

It stopped in front of him and the fire chief jumped out and slowly approached Bryson, ‘It’s alright, it’s all under control’, Bryson beamed as the other fire fighters began reeling out the hose and donning their fire hoods.

A shriek came from the building and they all looked up, the fire chief taking his eyes off Bryson for the first time. ‘They’re just demons, but I got them. Nothing to worry about’ Bryson placated as some of the fire fighters began rushing towards the house.

Bryson began to run after them, ‘What are you doing?’ he shouted, ‘they’ll possess you, it’s haunted. I’ve seen them, stop. Didn’t you see my badge, I’m the sheriff’ he pleaded. Bryson heard men running behind him and turned to stop them from following, just as the fire chief tackled him to the ground. ‘They’re demons’, he urged as the first of the firefighters entered the inferno.

The fire chief hauled Bryson to his knees, knocking his sheriff badge onto the ground. ‘Throw me some cable ties’ the fire chief shouted, as more flashing lights joined the throng. As the water from the hose sizzled against the flames, the screams grew louder, and Bryson heard shouts as the building began to crumble.

Through the windows Bryson could see silhouettes of figures desperately running back and forth. As he heard axes splintering wood, he slowly shook his head, ‘I warned you, they’re being hunted.’ He sighed. The fire chief stood over him, his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pursed as the shouting died down.

There was movement behind them, as the fire chief picked up the toy badge from the ground and held it out to the sheriff. The sheriff hauled Bryson to his feet, his white gown dragging in the dirt, as they pulled the first body out of the flames.

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