Template:Custom Arsonist Stories

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"Good luck." A subtle saying typically used in a way to instill a false sense of innocence in someone. Seeming to be a kind gesture towards the other people in the town. But to him, it was nothing more than a veiled threat, thrown out loudly and with a devilish smile. He only said it, because he knew they would need it... Once the night came, his fun began. Walking slowly, proudly, a puff in his chest and a spring in his step. Visiting other's houses, brandishing a gas can, emptying it on their houses, whistling and smiling. Letting loose a single, satisfied word once his can was empty. "Doused." Three nights later, 2 people had been hung to death, the town Sheriff and a Jester, who was likely to take another's soul this coming night, the town was in paranoia, people claiming others were evil, angrily calling those who did not agree "Idiots" or saying the rather popular phrase "Stupid town". But to him, it was just fading into the noise of birds chirping, water rushing, and far, within his mind, the screams of people burning. The night forced everyone into their homes, but he only had one word on his mind, and let it loose from his ash stained lips. "Ignite." The screams in his mind, were suddenly very, very, real. (Creative Writing Stories 1st place, credit to TheWillEffect)

He has vivid memories of his life as a child. His first memory is that of watching fireworks when he was three. When he was five, his parents caught him playing with matches. They did not notice the smell of the gasoline. When he was seven, his house burned down. The fire department tracked the source to his bedroom. They could not figure out who might have started it. When he was eight, his parents were found charred in the woods. No suspects were found. When he was nine, the orphanage he was in burned down. The fire department could not find a cause. When he was eleven, his foster home burned down, killing both his foster parents. The fire department tracked the source to his foster parents' room. The list went on. But here he was now, at age 47, living fairly peacefully in Salem. Then, one day, he got an idea: why not throw gasoline on someone, as a practical joke? He decided to do so that night, but to not tell his victim. The next night, he noticed that his gasoline can had leaked all the way back to his house. He wondered what would happen if he lit the end. He watched the flame slowly make its way to the house of his victim - and burn him! He smiled to himself and thought, I like this way of life. (Creative Writing Stories 2nd place, credit to Anonymous0726)

The light of the fire coming from a lit match shined in the darkness of the night, which was accompanied by the glittering stars of the background. The smell of gasoline filled the air inside the small room that the Arsonist found in a house, as well as a window that would allow him to jump, stealthily, out and into fresh air. He smiled as he watched the fire.

The fire was flickering in the darkness, and it reminded him of... well, fire. He tilted his head, as if he was admiring the fire, which, well, he was. After all, such a simple element would lead to the death of thousands. He smiled an insane smile, instead of a calm smile, and dropped the match. He immediately ran out of the room, through the window, before the match even fell onto the puddle of gasoline that he left there a few nights before.

Almost immediately, the house behind him went up in flames, and the screams of a poor, unsuspecting soul cried out in agony as they died. He watched as the fire spread to the second house, which belonged to another unsuspecting soul. The Arsonist smiled as he saw his victims' houses go up in flames, and as he heard the screams of people as they slowly burned to death. (Creative Writing Stories 3rd place, credit to DayNight)

Lurking within the shadows of Salem lies a tortured soul. Hoarding gallons of fuel used in fire-breathing stunts from his failed circus performing career, the Arsonist's mind only remembers the murderer who killed his entire circus. His psyche broken, the Arsonist lights a match in one hand and carries a fuel tank in the other. He is ready to act upon his shattered morality's view of what's right. (unregistered contributor)

The Arsonist caresses the match flame with his finger, licking his lips as he looks around. His eyes are filled with insanity. The houses, wet with gas, twinkle dully in the moonlight. He debates internally, his sanity quickly eroding to a mere nub as the night passes. As the sun begins to peek over the horizon, he breaks before his insanity. He drops the match and steps back in one fluid motion, starting to giggle. The match seems to fall in slow motion, flickering, guttering-but not going out. The flames leap up, hungrily devouring the gas. He roars with the fire, cackles as it crackles; the smoke and fire paints the sky red in the coming dawn, silhouetting the lone man watching the town burn. (credit to SOURCECODE01)

The Arsonist, an insane asylum patient, is a pyromaniac driven by his burning passion of setting everything on fire. Carrying a fuel tank in one hand and a matchstick in the other, the Arsonist douses a person's house in gasoline, and then when he deems it the right time, lights his doused targets up, and as he watches their houses go in flames, he grins and makes his way back to his house, until the final morning comes, where everyone has gone up in ashes. The Arsonist's work here is done. (unregistered contributor)

Inside the charred remains of a burnt-down building, sits a crying man. His family is no-where to be found after the blazing wreck, and his mind is driving him insane at the thought of seeing his family perish in the flames. A spark lights open a nearby match, next to the man. His mind is now broken, the sight of the burning match snaps his burning anger. He gets up, grabs the fuel tank and matches that the Arsonist left behind, and stalks the shadows of Salem, burning down any house in his wake to "avenge" his family in his own way... (credit to Squiddington)

Lurking within the shadows of Salem lies a tortured and unhappy soul. Once a talented circus performer, he retired and has become a famous businessman dealing with fire, and being able to solve any arsonist case. A few years later, he meets a young woman. She is a Witch, and seeks revenge for her brother arsonist that he killed. Using her charms, she makes him fall in love with her and eventually gets married. One night, she controls him, and makes sure he is conscious to remember everything. Forcing him to get a fuel tank and a match, he burns her. After her death, he finds a letter she wrote to him that explained everything. Heartbroken and shunned, he vows to stay loyal to her, and heads off with his old circus equipment to become the one and only feared Arsonist. (unregistered contributor)

A rich, comfortable family lived in the biggest house in the circle. No one had a house as big as them. The littlest of them, didn't like it. He said it was too big. Then, one day, it wasn't there. He and his big sister, showed up. Their parents were in the house when they left. They looked at the remains. His sister rushed to the house across the street. She took him over there so he didn't have to look at the horrendous monstrosity of a wreck was on the property. She cried with all her might. She gave 100% everyday, and today seemed to be a 0%. His sister left him at the neighbors and committed suicide. He remembered leaving the neighbors' house and looking at his house, which was just a pile of ashes. He was adopted, then ran away again. He hated everything. He hated his mom. His dad. His sister. Fire burned in his heart. His mind was unruly. he had to get rid of it. All the anger. All of the hate..... (unregistered contributor)

The Arsonist used to be a low-life volunteer firefighter. He hated fire, and he wanted the world ridden of it. He absolutely hated it, with all his heart. He would carry at least a gallon of water everywhere he went, in paranoia that fire would consume his location. Everyone mocked him for his fear of fire, but he didn't care. He just didn't. But one day, one man would take it too far. the Jester would burn down his house. It would be the ultimate crime to get him lynched. But, to no avail. The man put the fire out. But after that, he realized he couldn't take his fear of fire anymore. He couldn't let everything lead up to this. He would confront his fears of fire, without a fire hose at hand. He then, and only then, would he realize how fire looked so beautiful. He was fascinated. His life made a huge turnaround, he thought. He thought, with the world consumed with fire, everyone could see its beauty. He would place a gas can in someone's house every night, and use a fine mechanism he made to ignite them all using an old radio he repaired. When he turned on Station 46 FM... all hell broke loose. (credit to Octometaknight)

A small child skipped through the woods. He smiled and glanced at the large vast tangle of trees and bushes before him. As he reached the deep part of the forest, he saw a woman. The woman was approaching a shack hidden in the woods- the spy's shack. The boy watched the woman creep in through a nearby window, and approach the unsuspecting spy. He saw her light a single match, and toss it on the spy. The spy screamed in agony as the fire burned her skin. The woman quickly darted out of the house through the front door. The little boy gasped. He's never seen someone die like that before. The woman spotted the young boy and smiled at him. She asked him if he liked fire. The boy shrugged. The woman lit a match. She held in front of the boy's face. The boy stared at it. The fire was really pretty. The woman promised the boy anything he wanted in the world if she would join her and become her successor should she pass. The boy nodded enthusiastically. He agreed to be her successor. He promised the woman he would make the town burn. (credit to LittleMissFanGirl14)

WE HAVE TO FIND HIM! Shouted the frightened towns people, they were of course talking about the arsonist, but why did this once peaceful town seem so intent on finding this man, it was because during the darkness of night he had stealthy visited all their homes and covered them in gasoline, they knew their time was fleeting and that he was essentially a ticking time bomb leading towards their inevitable fate, but what terrible fate could this be, they all knew the answer to that, they were all going to burn, all except for one, but who is this one person, none of them have the faintest idea and as they all argue amongst themselves, he feigns fear of the arsonist, but this is all a ruse for he is the one that controls the flames, he is misleading the town and they don't know what to do, in their paranoia they vote to lynch a random town member, he must be the arsonist they all think, it has to be him, if it isn't then they are all doomed, when on trial he pleads that he is not the arsonist and that he is the only one who can stop him, the town doesn't believe him and out of desperation hang him, they read his will which revealed him to be the jailor and it pointed out who the arsonist was and that he had planned to lock him up and execute him, what have they done they all thought, the man was telling the truth, he could have stopped him from killing them all, but they killed him instead, with his identity revealed the arsonist dropped the mask of sanity to reveal his madness, he laughs at them, he thanked them for killing the one who had threatened his plan, finding it hilarious that they are such fools, now they know who he is they can stop him! But as the sun sets he vanishes into the night, he had slipped right through their hands, the town members go back into their homes empty handed, they know they will die tonight as they have lost their one chance to stop him. Deep into the night they all watch in horror as the arsonist steps out from the shadows, his face lit up by the match he held in his hand as a twisted smile formed on his face, with the flames reflected in his eyes revealing his soul, he walked into town with his instrument of terror and spoke only one word, "burn" he dropped the match and watched as the fire broke off into separate trails, all racing to every house but his own, the towns people screamed in pain, their bodies twisting and melting, being consumed by the fire, but unlike them he did not scream, he only laughed, a laugh of joy mixed with insanity. The next morning no one walked out of their homes, no one except for him, for he had completed his goal, to cleanse this town with fire, as he looked upon his masterpiece he spoke out loud "now time to cleanse the world". (Credit to MattBab4)

The Arsonist was just a regular kid, who wanted to become a chef one day. However, after the day he was controlled by a Witch, it seemed like he had gotten a curse. Whenever he would try to light a match, the match would not set on fire, no matter how hard he tried. Soon, this curse drove him crazy. Of course he loved fire, but the only thing hindering him from using it was those darn matchs made by the Townspeople.

The Arsonist is misunderstood by most people; they think he is trying to burn everyone alive, but that is not the truth. the reality is the fact that the Arsonist only wants to try and burn the town because of their poor match quality. But the reason why not only town members die, but everyone dies, is because his curse with matches has driven him insane; he thinks that even owning a match is a crime! Unfortunately, it seems that everybody in Salem owned matches. So at night, he carries his gasoline can and his lighter and drenches a random person's house with gas. He believes that the only way to get even with those darn matches is by destroying them with their on creation: fire. After he gets a substantial amount of match-bearing townies covered in gas, he makes a trail of oil to a single area. And then, he takes out his lighter.

Now the Vigilante is trying to make a last effort to try and make the Arsonist stop. The Vigilante rushes out of his house without even having his coat on. He hastily points his pistol at the Arsonist and takes a shot, and prays that it hits the Arsonist so the townies all can breathe a sigh of relief. but it doesn't. The Arsonist swiftly moves backward, and the bullet harmlessly strikes the pavement. The Vigilante reloads, in a valiant effort to save the town, but he knows he is too late. The Arsonist calmly bends down, and ignites the gas. Lines of fire rush out in all directions, and the Vigilante shoots a bullet in pure frustration. As the burning victims scream, the bullet lands on an unsuspecting doctor who is trying to heal a crippled townie. The doctor falls to the ground and dies. The Vigilante, overwhelmed with grief, shoots himself for letting the entire town down. The Arsonist has finished his task.

But don't let the evil side of the Arsonist make you think that he is a badguy. The Arsonist, completing another one of his goals, has become a succesful chef. Now he makes five-star meals, which are only served to the very few customers willing to go to his restaurant. The rest of the townies are scared to go there because of the giant sign outside that says, "The Arsonist's Restaurant". They don't know how much good food they're missing out on. But there's a very important tip, though. If you do decide to go to his restaurant, whatever you do, DON'T mention anything about matches around him or he WILL incinerate you. itshme

The sunrise this morning was beautiful.

As the sun peaked over the eastern hills, it cascaded an intense scarlet light onto the town. The whole town was caught in a glamour of red and orange and yellow, and the horizon burned so vividly it almost blackened my eyes! I'm really not much of a morning person, but I think it was worth it this one time. For the first time in years, I really found the town of Salem beautiful.

Ah, Salem.

My home, although much of the time I find myself wishing it was not. For so many years it had been so boring, until it all exploded into a hellhole of senseless voting, accusations, and lynchings. I really wasn't much one for it, especially since it meant getting up early every single morning.

That's not even taking into account all that has been lost! For example, yesterday an innocent, albeit curious, citizen was put to the noose. She had been hanging around houses at night, seeing who came in and who went out. Noble-hearted, but foolish.

Although, I suppose some good has come of the lynchings. A few members of the mafia have fallen under the town's idea of justice.

But the more I try to convince myself that the "democratic process" is the best way to get rid of the mafia, the more I fail. Too risky, by far. The mafia would all perish in one night if the people of Salem were wise enough to see the possibilities. The way the town is going about it now, they will simply dismember themselves and let the mafia pick apart the remaining pieces.

Oh well. I don't even know why I'm bothering to write about the possibilities.

After all, I've already made them all real.

I've put an end to the Salem's problems! It was hard, yes, but worth it to not have to get up early. Oh, and no more of that senseless voting! No more have to die to the town's skewed perception of justice. And, above all, Salem has been ridded of the mafia. No more have to die to the scum that stalked the streets and forced the citizens inside their homes.

Yes, this is the last time I will have to wake up early. I don't know why I even bothered seeing if anybody would show up at the town square. I knew nobody would show up. And sure enough, I walked into Salem's meeting point this morning and found that nobody joined me. So, I sat beneath the tyrannical noose that had claimed so many unfairly, and watched the morning light.

The sunrise was beautiful, as I already wrote. But the flames consuming the town, and with it the mafia, helped a bit, I suppose. (credit to Alchevexxed)

The arsonist sighed, staring at the houses. It was midnight, and he could hear the people killing each other. And later, he would hear screams. He knew. He had doused everyone, and pretended he too had doused himself. How silly for the town to believe he was a transporter. Maybe it was true, the rumor that most towns were dumb, and it was by sheer luck they would "win" the game. He lit a match, staring at the houses around him once again. There was one person's house who he had not doused. He decided he wasn't worth bothering about. He glanced at the match, and dropped it onto the trail of gasoline he had left, connecting to almost every house, but two. He could hear many screams. Many, many screams. He could also hear fire burning. Oh, to see fire burn once again..

In the morning, the Serial Killer held a terrified face as he knew what fate had been sealed for him. Despite that, he tried not to show it. The arsonist just chuckled, waiting it to once again become night. (credit to user User:JaneIsDerpish JaneIsDerpish.)

This man had been fascinated by fire and heat all his life. Anything that emitted extreme heat and light fascinated him. Whether a lightbulb, a stove, or a matchstick, anything like this would entrance him. One day, he burned down his family home. At this point, the military had caught wind of him. They enlisted him, with the promise that he could play with fire all the time.

After the war, he returned to his hometown, Salem. He still wanted to burn and kill. But he had saved some things that he had been given during the war. A bulletproof vest, gas mask, and a flare gun. But he had also stockpiled gasoline, matches and sticks. All to satisfy his urges to burn.

That night, the town looked especially bright. Because they had all been doused in gasoline. The Arsonist then aimed his flare gun at a nearby house and pulled the trigger. The orange streak roared across the street and hit the house, lighting it on fire. The fire then rushed to every other house in the town, eventually consuming the whole town. And in the shadows, one man watched from the porch of his home. This man had burned everything. Killed everyone.

The next morning, no one walked the streets except for the Arsonist. Burned corpses and charred wreckage littered the smoking paved pathways.(Credit to Cptrockets30)