Pyromania. The cotton wool caught beautifully and made deep red flames that soon set the wooden casing of the girls toilets alight.

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Pyromania

        There was a heat wave hitting the southeast of England and I was seven years old, without a worry in the world. Every day I went to school and every day I had the same teacher, Mrs Burgess or “Mrs Burger Bum” as my friends and I called her. She was a fat and nasty woman in her mid forties. She wore thick glasses and had and evil smile which frightened me. Class was so boring; we were never aloud to speak with our friends because miss always became annoyed. I found myself feeling so down in her classes and I just wanted to leave and go to a play.

        Playtime, however was a complete contrast, we could do anything. The girls always used to play on the hard concrete with the skipping ropes playing games that never appealed to the boys.  Instead the boys played tag and army games, hiding behind rocks and in mud trying to shoot our opponents. At the height of all our fun we were disrupted by the sound of Mrs Burger Bum ringing the school bell, telling us playtime was over and it was back to living hell under the supervision of Mrs Burger Bum.

         My main friends then were Ben, Jack, Dan and Joe. On a typical weekend all of us stayed around each other’s houses overnight, abusing our mother’s kindness and forcing them to lay out a sea of mattresses. Ben was always the first to doze off and as always made the loudest noise, enraging the rest of us. As friends we never really behaved properly, we were normally messing around, having fun at other peoples expense, never obeying adults and generally not respecting others. One day as we were all perched around a picnic table, sweltering in the heat and munching on our packed lunches, jack told us a story. The story was a complete lie but we were immature fools so we believed him.

        The story began with a haystack in the field next to Jack’s house. Jack “borrowed” the farmer’s tractor and used it to scoop up hay and pile it on the stack until it was soft and high. Jack then pinched some objects from a shed nearby, not knowing what they were he threw them on. Jack ran back to his house to collect something and came back to the haystack with a match flickering with the wind in his cupped hand. Jack knelt down, lit the hay and as fast as a horse can run he retreated to the safety of his tree house. The flames spread like a pack of bloodhounds chasing a petrified fox. The objects were in fact fireworks and hey flew into the air with staggering beauty making the most spectacular display of fire Jack had ever seen.

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        Returning back to reality with my friends and I around the picnic bench we all seemed to have the same idea at once. We didn’t realise what it would mean to us and how much trouble we would be in, but we planned one of the craziest and stupid things ever without any fear.

        The next day Daniel arrived late to school, we all asked him if he had “it”.  He had and as we counted every second until the clock reached half passed ten, when we rushed out side as if we were bank robbers running from armed guards. ...

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