Pyro

Not many people are outside today – you can sense the paranoia in the air.

However, it didn’t stop children from playing in the snow – from sledding down hills and driveways to engaging in snowball fights.

Ka-chik! Ka-chik!

A snowball flew past me, crashing into something else close by – a person that stood behind me.
He dusted the snow off of his shoulder and adjusted his red scarf.

Pyro.

The children looked at him guiltily, especially the one who threw the snowball.
However, a playful smile appeared on his lips as he bent down and grabbed a handful of snow.

“You have five seconds to take cover.”

The children looked at each other and smiled collectively, scrambling to take cover or to create snowballs of their own.

It was no surprise that Pyro was pelted down with snowballs within ten minutes.

Ka-chik!

“Alright! I surrender! You all have bested me!”

I couldn’t help but smile as the children cheered and high-fived each other, running off to start another game.
I helped Pyro to stand up and dusted the snow off of him.

“So young, all of them. They have so many hopes, dreams, and accomplishments ahead of them. Yet…”

He watched them, his smile fading away.

“Alessandro, have you always wanted to be a photographer?”

“Yeah, for as long as I could remember. I would always watch my father take pictures, fix cameras, and develop photos. Many people loved his work, but not as much as my mother. She had a higher appreciation for his work.”

I absent-mindedly traced my fingers over the lens of the camera – Father’s camera.

“What about you, Pyro? What did you want to grow up to be?”

He didn’t answer.
His sight focused on something else – a small boy hiding under a bench.

“He must be hiding from the others.”
“He’s not hiding from them.”

I looked up at Pyro, his face etched with sympathy.

“Where are you, you little piece of shit?!”

A woman yelling down the sidewalk, holding a bottle of vodka in her hand.
The boy cowered more underneath the bench.

“Just wait ‘til I get my fuckin’ hands on you!”

She saw Pyro and me and stumbled towards us.

“Have either of you seen a short little brat around here? He looks like me, but has dark brown hair instead, probably wearing a striped scarf. Have ya’ seen the little shit?”

I didn’t know how to respond as I saw the boy shake his head back and forth, hugging his knees to his chest.

“I saw someone like that, running down that street about five minutes ago.”
Pyro explained as he pointed out a street opposite ways from the boy’s hiding spot.

She slurred a ‘thank you’ before stumbling in that direction until she was completely out of sight.

“It’s okay. You can come out now.”
I spoke and motioned towards him that it was safe and he crawled out.

He came a little closer, staring straight at Pyro, who was staring back.

“You’re hurt…”

Pyro didn’t respond. He gave the boy another look – a blank expression – before he started to walk off.

“Thank you…”
I nodded towards the boy before I followed after Pyro.

He didn’t say a word as we made our way to the cliff.
He took out a cigarette and lit it with shaky hands.

A shaky inhale, a shaky exhale.

I placed a hand on his cheek, gently making him look at me; I closed the space in between us, causing our lips to meet – the taste of cinnamon lingered once again.

He moved away, bringing his cigarette back to his lips, inhaling before exhaling the grey toxin again.

“To answer your question: I didn’t get to decide what I wanted to be. The choice was already made for me, and there was no going back. Even now, there’s no going back…”

One last inhale and exhale before he put the cigarette out, flicking it over the edge.

“What were you forced to be?”

He looked up at the white sky as the bone-chilling smile appeared.

“Bambino Demone”