Phoenix

Flashing light.

The sirens were all I knew. I pulled up to my house- more so just to the side of my house due to it being blocked off, and watched as hoses sprayed it down with water. I knew what had happened, but I was in denial.

"Excuse me, sir- this is my house. What's going on here?"

"Are you Peter Mullenhall?"

"Yes, that's me. What happened to my house?"

"It appears it caught on fire, son."

"How'd it do that?"

"We don't know yet. Fire marshal is inside. He'll tell you when he knows."

"Thank you. Was the fire bad?"

"Son, you have no roof. You barely have a second story, and I would've told the fire marshal to not even bother going in there if it had been me. That place ain't stable."

"So I should get a hotel room, and move on then- eh?"

"Yeah, you have homeowner insurance?"

"Yes sir."

"Once you make a claim you should start looking for a new place to live. Nothing you have was saved. Everything is gone."

Good. I wanted everything to be gone.

"I hate this place. Good thing it's gone. I would've burnt it down myself if I had the chance."

"Would've done what?"

"Thanks officer. I think I'll be going now."

My life was in shambles. The love of my life, Patricia- who I had been with since high school prom in the '80s had left me. We never had kids, I was never able. She always hated me for it, and decided to leave me when she found a man that could knock her up.

"At least his sperm know how to swim!" She yelled that at me when she left the house.

We had bought the house right before our wedding. Moved into it afterwards. What a mistake.

My cousin came to visit, nice kid, a few years ago. Well, it wasn't exactly my cousin- it was my cousin's kid. My actual cousin is a lot closer to my age, and this kid was like, 15 or so. My cousin's wife thought it'd be a good idea to show him what it was like "out in the suburbs" for a month. A month. And Patricia always wanted to try to work with a troubled teen.

I didn't know what "emo" was at the time, but I do now. This house, my bathroom- the one now burnt down on the second floor- is where my cousin slit his wrists. He didn't do it good enough to kill himself, but this is where he started. A cry for attention. We gave him attention, but it wasn't cool enough for him. My bathroom always seemed to have blood on it- his blood- since then.

A week later he'd try to hang himself from a tree in my backyard. I cut down that tree.

Then he overdosed on some pills he found in our cabinet and had to get his stomach pumped. Kid just wouldn't stop trying to die.

He knocked up some poor girl with similar emo tendencies. The kid seemed to make him grow up real fast. Cute kid, just sad he has to live so poor.

And this is where I wrote my novel. When I lost my job and had nothing to do, I wrote a novel. It sucked. No one could get passed this point where two of the characters have gay tendencies toward one another. Bunch of homophobes. But this is where literary agents and the like told me time and time again- this novel was shit. Not "the" shit as some say, but they literally meant shit. As if someone sat down and pooped it out. My dream- my moment of glory- shattered. Right here in this house.

I can't forget the Thanksgiving we had here. The first and last for the family. We haven't had one since then, and a year after my wife and I separated. My family decided to get into a huge argument over my grandma's will. About who was getting what. My grandma sat at the table, telling them to stop fighting- but no one listened.

Then she died that night in her sleep in our guest room. It was horrible, finding your grandma dead and not breathing. My family blamed me, tried to cut me out of her will. It didn't work, but no one has had a Thanksgiving dinner since then.

And this is where my best friend and I ended our relationship too. You see, one issue my ex-wife had was my best friend- Betty. She thought we were getting too close and I'd wind up cheating on her. I had to actually invite her over and tell her I couldn't talk to her anymore because of my wife. I haven't since.

Neither have I spoken with any of my other friends.

And now this place is gone. I can do whatever I want.

I can go live in England for a year now with the money I'll be getting. I can start anew. I like the sound of that.

"Officer, here's my phone number for when you are all done- I'm going to go stay in a hotel tonight. The one on Main Street next to the coffee shop. Just give me a call if anything happens, will you?"

"Will do."

I drive away. Main Street is nice, the hotel is nice. The room I get is nice. It's all just so nice. They'd tell me what happened later.

"Sir this is Officer Dale with the police department calling to tell you the cause of the fire. It appears that your bird hit some electrical wires in the house killing himself and setting himself on fire."

"I don't have a bird."

"Well, some bird caught on fire and burnt to ashes. And if it wasn't yours, I don't know what else to tell you."