Snippet #1237077

The light of the candle had died, leaving only leaving a waxy mess upon Rethyn's counter. Within the room, his dim red eyes gave a small array of light which looked down upon the open red letter. He had started to read the letter while the wax was still high. With the candle's light gone; he sat at the counter taking long and irregular breaths. The lids of his eyes had become red as the veins in the white of his eyes became more visible. Upon the letter and Rethyn's right hand there were small drops of tears which ruined the ink of the blood red letter. Where the tears had landed, they seemed to twist and distort the unfortunate words which they dropped upon.

With a sudden spark of rage Rethyn shot up and knocked the objects off the section of the counter of which he sat. Without pause, next came the stool of which he sat on. Lifting up the light stool with on hand he chucked it at the door. With a loud and echoing crack the stool broke into several pieces as it contacted the door. In the midst of his rage he rubbed at his face as he cursed under his breath. He was cornered and tired. They pushed and pushed, never once giving him a chance at success.

Breathing out one last uncontrolled breath, Rethyn glanced at every bit of his and his fathers shop. Memories of begging to get the materials to build this burned in his mind. Success in the store was something which they achieved together.

"No..." Rethyn said in a dark whisper like hiss.

Stepping away from the wooden counter, he was shaking. If they wanted the store they could have what was left. With those thoughts possessing his mind, Rethyn paced around his store with a fair amount of noise in his step. With every stomp like step it felt the wood of the floor was going to break under him.

Finally finding it, Rethyn narrowed his blood red eyes. It was simply a can filled with a yellowish vegetable oil. It seemed almost idiotic that what he grabbed was so simple, but it in reality it wasn't. What most folk of Fangoiria didn't know was that most of their simple vegetable oils were flammable. It wasn't the vegetables which were flammable, but the preservatives used for the vegetable oil.

With a simple toss of the right hand, the can smashed up against the side of the wooden counter. As the oil flooded out, Rethyn pulled out from his large coat a match. Striking the match, he dropped it into the small sea of oil. With almost a popping like sound, the fire flew up crackling. The flames turned the shade of blue momentarily before going back to red as the ignited.

Wasting no further time, Rethyn covered up his nose and mouth with his coats sleeve. For a moment he felt the urge to grab everything, but he didn't. He forced himself to turn away from it and pass out the back door one last time.