The Burning House

By Deepangshu Mitra

The clean and neatly trimmed beard of Jake Matthews caught the wind as he looked up to the rising sun on the shores of Malibu. His newest project had finished just a day prior, and the flight was only a couple of hours away. He looked behind him and admired his architecture, the white washed walls seemed a bit to conventional, but his client had insisted on them. “The walls must be white.” He had said, “I must feel at peace when I come visit this place once a month.” Well, maybe not those exact words, but when you look at the client’s background, you find out that he has three mansions, all white.

Also, this particular project held a special place in his heart. A few days before he had left his home, he had asked his twins, Hylla and Matt, to design him what they thought would be a decent modern piece of architecture. He was surprised by the results, and had incorporated some of those in his final design. A few hours later, the clouds whizzed by as the Airbus A380 in which he was seating. Jake Matthews was a well-educated man, a trained architect, loving husband, and an amazing father, not necessarily in that order. He lived in Upper Ironclad with his wife, Jessica, and twins- Matt and Hylla. His red convertible waited for him outside the airport for it would be a long drive to his villa, at the way at the foothills of the nearby mountain range. The keys turned, the engine purred, and the car drove away,, leaving a plume of dust and smoke, and Jake Matthews drove towards his waiting family.

“Will you two stop fighting!” Cried Jessica. Matt and Hylla were arguing again. Somehow, they always found something to argue about. This time, they had started arguing on whose design was better for dad.

“Mine was better, brother.” Hylla said, puffing out her chest. The way she took pride of herself was so funny Jessica snickered.

“Oh please, Hylla. You know I design better than you.” Matt replied.

“When dad returns ask him, alright.” Jessica offered. “Fine!” Hylla sighed.

“Fine!” Matt sighed, looking the other way.

“What are you two doing, arguing all ‘bout the place ?” Jessica scolded the two. “Act like good siblings, you two. Dad’s coming back tonight, and look at the state of your room! It’s a mess! Clean up, both of you. And no Matt, no whining. Both of you.”

Confident that they would both oblige, Hylla went back to cooking the last bit of tonight’s meal. Jessica was a professor at the academy in the city of Ironclad, but had left her job when her children had turned eight. Now, she had her own drop shipping business, which she operated alongside her role as a mother and wife. The clock showed itself at three thirty in the afternoon. Two hours before Jake arrived. Jake was always on time. Never early, never late. He was there exactly when you needed him. One of the qualities Jessica admired about him. She was much messier, with many friends and not as clean a sheet as him. It was not a surprise that none of Jake’s friends

had turned up. First, he didn’t have many, and those close ones who had the fortune of calling him a friend were all successful people, who were too busy with life.

The house was a cherry little one, perched on top of a hill, with one winding road leading up to it. A car, a red convertible, drove up that very same road. Its tyres stopped on the gravel driveway. The door opened and Jake Matthews stepped out. The lights of the living room switched on as the sliding glass door opened and two children came out to hug him. Smiling, Jessica saw him. That same smile she loved, after two months. Unable to control herself, she hugged him tight, as if she was hugging him for the first time. An hour later, the happy family found themselves snuggling together in the living room, as Jake told them about all the things he had seen in Malibu. The lights of the city below them looked life fireflies in the deepening darkness of dusk.

“Dad, did you use the design you told us to make?” Hylla asked. Matt immediately perked up, sensing an end to their day-long argument.

“Well, we didn’t incorporate them fully, but, I personally adapted some of your designs into the final building. The client loved them!” Although the last bit was not entirely true, Jake said it because he knew Matt and Hylla both liked being appreciated for their work, in the same way parents make not fully-true compliments to make their child’s day.

“Whose did you like more?” asked Matt, as if his life depended on it.

“He liked both of yours equally,” Jessica replied. “And he isn’t going to pick sides. He better not.” That last comment was aimed directly at Jake, who thought it was a bit unnecessary because he was about to say exactly that.

Two little bright dots had appeared in the night sky, but this family paid no heed. The chimed the tone of time as it showed itself to be at eight. The family kept conversing in cheerful tones and eating tasty snacks. It was almost a minute later that little Matt realised there was something wrong with the night sky. At first, he could not put his hand to it, but he noticed them- two bright dots of light, growing ever so slightly larger. As any child would, he poked his mother as his mother seemed to know a lot about the sky.

“Mum, what are those little things in the sky?” he asked, pointing at the dots.

Jessica looked up, and there were a series of emotions that crossed her face- shock, bewilderment, and then, a look of scathing calm- they had come for her, and she would protect her family. With a guttural scream, she screamed “TAKE COVER!” But it was too late, for the dots, which now where massive balls of orange fire, had hit the building. Matt found himself flying, higher and faster than he had ever flew. He closed his eyes, and saw a flutter of images cross his mind- his happiest memories. And then the world when black.

When Matt Matthews regained consciousness, the world around him was rubble. He had a bloody broken nose, and he was cut in about a dozen different places. Blood turned sticky

beneath his torn clothes the first word which came from his mouth was “Hylla,” a softly spoken word, which was soon

transformed into hysterical screaming. Screaming on search of that same annoying voice of his other half. He stumbled around, and tried to grab a piece of concrete to gain balance, but the slab cut his hand. He stumbled around, grabbing anything for balance. He could not stop, not when none of his family was by his side. Yet the flames rolled on, not bothered about the losses of its victims.

Suddenly, a dark shape tackled him from behind. He struggled against firm hands until a familiar voice reached his ears, “Matt you’re alive!” his father was looking at him. His once handsome face was cut and bruised, and his clothes were in tatters, but the happiness in his eyes shone through the mask of soot and dust.

“Where’s Hylla and mum, dad? Did you find them?” Matt asked.

The happiness drowned from Jake’s face. His eyes dimmed down and brimmed with tears. He carried his boy in his arms and stumbled out of the premises, as the burning house dropped on top of the burnt bodies of Jessica and Hylla Matthews.

By Deepangshu Mitra