malacodah (malacodah) wrote in btvsal, @ 2008-12-22 10:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | place: la, ~frost |
Mad Dog
Jacqueline Frost - Jack Frost or just Frost to pretty much everyone - was sitting on the top of a house, across the street from watching her own personal bonfire burn to the ground. There was a cigarette in her mouth, burning, but she didn't need to breathe so it just quietly ashed itself and when the wind picked up it glowed a little brighter. There were other people around, on the ground, most looking horrified. But they weren't turning away, they were just rubbernecking. Frost could smell their sweat, and their blood, and their excitement. She could practically read their minds. Thank God. They were thinking. Thank god that didn't happen to us. Firefighters battled the flames with hoses and flashing lights.
See, Frost had built this one all herself. She'd chosen the house because there were bars on the windows. The doors were easy to take care of, too. A few boards here, a chain there, and when done under the cover of darkness no one had noticed. If anyone had heard anything, they didn't say. A little gasoline on the inside, and a burning candle while everyone slept? And FWOOSH eventually. Burn baby, burn. Three children, two parents, one grandparent, and a house.
Merry Christmas kidlings! Frost chuckled to herself and hopped off the roof. She had shit to do.