Bryson watched as fire consumed his house. He had always had a strange obsession with fire, and this was not the first fire he had started, but it was surely the largest. In the past few years he had already started several minor fires, lighting dumpsters, small forests, and etc, but no-one had ever caught him. Besides him his parents cried, and the fire spread quickly to nearby houses, but he felt no guilt whatsoever. The fire was a beautiful sight to him. It seemed almost alive, and seemed almost to have the faint outline of a laughing face. Bryson edged forward until the heat was almost unbearable. The face seemed clear, almost real. Suddenly a hand of fire gripped him and dragged him into the flames.

And he lived happily ever after.
The End