A Fire

A man sat on the steps outside a courtroom. Distraught. Justice had not been done. He had lost his only son to senseless violence.
He cried out to God, "Why?" No answer came. He felt like running, and screaming like his hair was on fire.
That's it! There would be a fire.
He ran down the sidewalk to his car, fumbled nervously with his car keys. He grabbed the full gas can, ran back to the courthouse and stood at the corner of the building. On this corner I will destroy this house. It seemed eerily quiet, and there were no police around. Tears streaming down his face, he started to pour the gasoline in a straight line down the side of the building. Burn, baby, burn! he thought. He continued to pour the gasoline, his hands shaking.
From nowhere, he heard a voice.
"Joe, stop now! Vengeance will be mine.”
The voice was so loud it sounded like a cannon going off. It filled the air. He turned and looked around. He saw nobody. He knew now, he had lost it. He was going to go to hell for sure. He continued to pour the gasoline until he reached the far corner of the building, the gas can almost empty. Once again, he heard the voice.
“Joe, forgive them, they know not what they do.”
The sound was so loud it filled his ears. Once again, he looked around. Nobody, Where was everyone? He thought. The voice was so loud now, Joe could hardly stand it. He dropped to his knees. The voice came again,
"Forgive them."
He dropped the gas can and lay on the ground. People began to form around him. He could see the paramedics, see their lips moving, but couldn't hear them. It was like their voices were on mute. They slowly picked him up and walked him to the ambulance.
Joe wondered, were the voices he’d heard just in his head, or had it really been…

© Robin Futrell 2014.