— The embankment was comparatively steep, however, the way that the trees had grown on it and the erosion of some of the soil meant that natural steps had been created in the embankment making it easier to climb. I made my ascent, jerry can in one hand, using the other to ensure that I maintained my balance as I climbed higher and higher. After a few minutes I paused and turned to look back. Down below in the hollow was my grandparent´s house, the grey slate roof seemingly positioned so that I could jump from the embankment and land on it. For a moment I considered doing that, taking a huge leap from the embankment, flying through the air, above the trees and landing on the expansive roof. There I could dislodge the roof slates and then pour the petrol within. All it would take would then be one match, a solitary spindly stick of fire falling into the created gap and then the flames would dance for me. The roofspace would soon ignite, so many wooden beams and so forth and it would be an age before a fire engine would get into this secluded location, by then the house would be a raging inferno. I looked at the gap between me on the embankment and the house below, it looked bridgeable but after consideration I concluded that I would fall short and instead crash onto the balustrade on the eastern front of the house and that would make me look like a failure. No, the house would be reprieved. This time.
I looked into the distance, afforded a fantastic view of the countryside, the undulating landscape continuing into the haze before I turned and once again began to climb. I made my way between the pine trees, climbing higher, a lone adventurer making his way through the gathering gloom of the trees. I recalled the last time I had been up here. Once again I had been creating my town landscape on the rough ground when I saw a girl´s head pop above the drystone wall and then two more. They were around my age and asked me what I was doing.
“Burning things, clearly,” I replied dismissively.
“Why?” asked one. She had long blonde hair and a nose which turned up at the end.
“Because I like doing it,” I replied. She considered this for a moment and nodded in acceptance.
I do not recall much more of the conversation but what I do recall is that I ended up climbing part way up the embankment with all three of them so that we were hidden from the house and we embarked on a kissing competition. They wanted to see how long I could kiss them for without breaking for breath. I readily accepted this challenge. Although I was young, I had experience of kissing from school and therefore knew I would easily beat the targets that they set. I stood on the side of the embankment kissing each one in turn. The first merely pressed her lips straight against mine and did not move her mouth which I found boring but I would not break off. She eventually did and I pointed out to her that this was not how you kissed.
“Watch this,” I instructed and moved on to the second girl with the third saying we had to kiss for twenty seconds. The second girl lacked the rigidity of the first and responded as I pulled her to me, gripping her tightly and then she joined me as I began to move my mouth. I opened one eye to ensure the other two girls were watching. The first had her eyes wide open as if she was watching something for the first time, the third watched with an anticipatory smirk on her lips.
It was a strange encounter with those three friends, one of whom lived further down the lane and her two school friends had visited her for the afternoon. The memory formed in my mind and was carried with me as I reached the top of the embankment, which was where I let it dissipate into the ether of the past.
The top of the embankment was a flattened area which had more trees. They were more densely collected than on the side of the embankment and as I made my way through them, the light faded. The darkness of this wooded area began to surround me, the many trees swaying slight in the low wind which made its way through across the embankment. The swaying of the trees, the stiffening breeze created the psithurism which made it seem as if a dark cloak was billowing atop the land. I continued on my way, weaving my way through the trees heading for my goal.
In the past when I had climbed the embankment I had expected to find myself at the top of a hill where I would be able to sit and survey all around, however I was surprised to find that the top of the embankment was more like a staging post. A flat area of trees which then led to more of the hill, albeit the tree line halted and instead it was a field which stretched onwards and upwards. More hill to climb, although that was not the purpose of today. Instead, I walked along to the left, the line of trees on my left, the field on my right as I saw my target just ahead of me. The wooden building.
I walked so I was positioned straight in front of it. A set of wooden steps led to a wide porch and then there was the two main doors. Onc was closed but the other was slightly ajar. There were multiple windows set along the front of this large wooden building. Most of the glass had gone, just a few broken panes remaining and from within came the bleached curtains which danced like tethered spectres, the wind whipping them through the exposed windows, tortured off-white wraiths seemingly condemned to remain bound to this place. From the outside one could not see inside, the interior was inky dark. The wood was broken in places, showing signs of rot underneath but the structure as a whole remained intact. I had been in here on numerous occasions, once even finding a man sleeping rough. It was only one storey, a low sloping roof which had fallen prey to the elements in some places, so that sky above could be seen through the breaks in the material. The building was easily two hundred feet in length and fifty feet across, other than a concrete foundation it was all made from wood and had been a substantial construction.
Once this place had been filled with people. I had established that it was some kind of retreat for people to come to and I suspected it was where they found rest. I wondered at first whether it was a leisure venue but that did not seem right. Instead it gave me the distinct impression from its design and some of the discarded furnishing and fittings within that is was used as a place of isolation, but relatively well appointed isolation. It was not somebody’s home, it was not even a holiday let, but struck me as a private retreat which was either some kind of sanatorium or a place for the stilling of the mind. One of the most unusual features about it was that there was no road that led to it, yet is was clearly a place that had different visitors. It was not a place that perhaps one group came to and never left, but instead the formality of its interior suggested it had patients rather than guests and ones who would then depart when they had recovered. How people reached it, was unclear, did they walk? How did the staff come here? Perhaps there was once a road but it had been dug up or the advancing field had grown over it. I had kicked at the ground beyond the door but unearthed nothing that would denote a road, lane or track. Strange.
It was difficult to gauge how long it had been left in a period of neglect and abandonment, ten years, twenty years, I could not fathom, but all I knew was that other than the occasional animal and the aforementioned rough sleeper it no longer served any meaningful purpose.
Except to me.
The wind had stiffened and that was advantageous as it would provide the bellows for my inferno. This mysterious building in the middle of nowhere stood waiting as I advanced, making my way up the creaking steps and across the porch. The building grew larger as I made my way towards the ajar left door and the midnight dark interior, jerry can in hand.
Time for this place to burn.
I will burn it all.