TITLE / WORLD BURN LOCATION / BLUR TIMELINE / FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16th @ ~1AM
Lighter fluid only costs 8 dollars at Duane Reade. Pair that with a set of matches, and you can commit arson for less than 15 dollars! And wouldn’t that be a great way to advertise? Celia let herself into the back door of Blur, laughing to herself at the absurdity of it. It seemed so blatantly ridiculous to her that any old poor person could just walk into a Duane Reade one day, and walk out with the means to burn down an entire building. As she walked through the back hallways of the club, dumping her 8 dollar liquid on the ground as she went, she realized that it wasn’t money that kept people from doing whatever the hell they wanted. It was sanity. How boring it must be to be totally sane.
By the time she reached the smallest room of the club, the entire back area of the building had been properly doused. She’d read on the internet that this would make it easier for the fire to catch throughout the place. After it spread enough, the rest of the building would catch on its own.
Light a match.
Throw it on the ground.
Watch the world burn.
That’s what was supposed to happen. In a perfect world, Celia would march through Blur with a smile painted on her lips. She’d take in the chaos surrounding her one last time, watch as one by one people started to smell that tell-tale scent of smoke. She’d be at the front door by the time the first person realized what was happening and shouted fire. Once the guests of Blur started evacuating, she’d be a shadow in the background of the building across the street. Cue Bishop stumbling out onto the pavement, the despair on his face would make it all worth it. And then, after she got her fill of her ex-lover’s anguish, she’d leave the scene of the crime without a trace.
But that would’ve been in a perfect world.
Contrary to popular belief, and unfortunately for her, Celia Santos didn’t live in a perfect world. Instead she lived in a world where door locks got jammed, and fires that were ignited to get back at a boy somehow spread more quickly than the average flame. Celia was never a frantic person, panic didn’t seem to be in her vocabulary, but during the last moments of her life she became the exact opposite of everything she had previously been. Her screams were terrified, for the first time in her life she actually begged, and her frantic pounding on the door would’ve been embarrassing had anyone else been around to see it.
It was just Celia, though, and as smoke filled her lungs and fire loomed only inches away from her, a sense of relief began to wash over her. All of the scheming, the backstabbing, and the lying was finally over. Her fall from grace would forever be overshadowed by her tragic death, and in death she would finally get the fame and recognition she deserved. She’d be loved and mourned. She’d become a fucking martyr, for God’s sake, and wasn’t that just the greatest thing that could ever happen to her?
And that’s how Celia Santos died BYE!












