Play With Fire- Sam Tinnesz

Hey there!

So, yesterday I tried writing to a couple songs. Then I asked people on Instagram if they thought it was a good idea, and got some song recommendations. Out of the ones I got, Play With Fire stood out the most, because there’s a lot I can do with this song.

For this, I would advise listening to the song while you read, because that way it’ll be more fun, but you don’t have to. I leave the character details up to you, but our main character today was just created like five seconds ago in my head and doesn’t actually have a name, so it can be whoever you want.

The song is here so feel free to listen.

And with that, let’s go!

*song starts here*

She sits up in bed, pressing a hand to her forehead. She looks around, and climbs out of bed.

Now, she’s walking down a street in the early morning, grey hood pulled over her face, hands in her pockets, looking at her feet. She walks onto a beach, to where a group of people are sitting around a bonfire. They greet her, but she doesn’t smile. She has a job to do.

A man gets up in front of them, and starts to explain something. A few people are talking quietly, and she stares them down unflinchingly. They seem to shrink under her stare, and quieten.

The man at the front shouts something, and everyone replies in kind- except her. She does not join in their spirit, their games. She is here for the adrenaline. For revenge.

Now it’s night time, and she and four other people are outside a building. One of them spills something on the ground, and nods to her. She allows herself a small smile before lighting a match.

She throws it onto the brown liquid, and watches as the flames rise.

Now, she’s back in her house. She glances over her shoulder, and she swears she sees a little girl running through the hallway, giggling. She shakes the image away, and steadies herself on the counter.

She’s in a dark room, two people on either side of her. They look everywhere but at her. They’ll never admit it, but they know her track record, and they’re terrified.

She doesn’t look at them, though. Her attention is focused on the man before her. He flinches under her burning stare.

She drives her knee into his gut, and he cries out in pain.

She smiles.

She leaves him whimpering in a dark alley and walks away.

It’s nighttime again, and she’s outside a new building. She looks up at the logo emblazoned on a bright billboard on one wall. She snarls at it, and directs the four people with her.

She takes out the match, and closes her eyes, bringing it to her lips before she lights it.

She throws it, and it lands on the pavement, on a pool of brown liquid.

Flames flare up, and quickly spread, surrounding the building. She is deaf to the screams, to the fear. If she does hear, she pays it no mind. These people- they deserve it.

The others leave, but she stays, the flickering flames reflecting in her eyes. For a moment, she can almost see them- three figures swirling up with the smoke, a little girl, a man, and a woman.

She smiles at them, lifts her hand in farewell. She’s done it. After five years of grief, of fear. She’s free, and now they can be too.

She walks away, to a red motorcycle that’s waiting for her, a backpack with everything she cares enough to save on her back. The house doesn’t matter anymore. The memories are too painful to bear, and she can’t let people find her. They will search, and she knows it.

So she walks to the motorcycle, swings one leg over it, and starts the engine. Her hair streams out behind her as she rides away from the blaze.

Miles later, she pulls over on the side of a deserted road.

She lets the motorbike drop to the ground, and crouches beside it, carefully rummaging through her backpack.

She pulls out a sheaf of papers- her school ID, her records, everything that might incriminate her. She’s flown under the radar for the past five years. Gently, she stacks these things on the back of her bike and swings the backpack back over her shoulder.

From her pocket, she draws one last match.

Like before, she douses the entire thing in fuel. She whispers something lost on the wind before she lights the match, and lets the fuel catch.

She watches from a safe distance as the last remnants of her past life are burned to ash, as the bike explodes. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

She’s always liked to play with fire.

The End (i know that’s a bit cliche)

Thanks for reading! I really hope you liked it (it was a first attempt). It does get a little dark, but I’m quite proud of how it turned out. Let me know any more songs you want to see!

Fish brain out.