I had a line from a corny old movie floating in my mind, “But I will not be tortured! I tear torture out of myself by torturing you!”
I was supposed to be writing something for my blog, but I may have spent half an hour instead trying to remember where this line came from, remember what the line was. I thought it said, “I purge hell from myself by purging myself of you.”
I like my version too. I suppose I may work it into one of my stories someday. The memory itself was like something from a dream, and it came with a picture: a man on an airplane pushing someone into the empty blue heavens.
I don’t know where the picture came from.
So are my dreams and my memories:
“I purge hell from myself,” I smile as my captive squirms, “by purging myself of you.” I throw the lighter at him. It lands in his lap, and the flickering flames quickly run up his shirt and over his face. Latching myself onto some convenient hook, I press the button.
His skin is black now, but as the bay door opens, the flames dwindle, nearly dying. He’s sucked away, like a fiery angel or shooting star, into the clear blue sky. With another button press, the bay door closes, and I stand alone in the darkness, unhooking my safety harness. The plane’s engines drone on. I sigh, and wonder. I play his initial screams in my memory, feel again the heat when the fire began, the rush of the wind. Vengeance! Vengeance was mine, and hell was mine. What wind could blow out the burning flax of my soul?
I press the button again.
Tale Told 