The Arsonist

At the train station early in the evening. Sits a student almost reclining on a bench like a Roman, reading his book.
A dirty shady middleaged thin individual, in a raincoat and with small glasses he peers through, and a grim look, approaches behind him and before the unfortunate student knows it has sloshed him with a quantity of inflammable liquid. The subsequent strong naked flame smartly and quickly applied to the youngster's body immediately starts a raging and healthy conflagration, to whose furious crackling the student adds impromptu screams. The shadowy serial killer moves unconcerned, and unsatisfied, up the deserted platform. He has moved on from murdering the homeless to carrying out quite motiveless attacks.
And when the platform is lighted, when the overhead lights flicker on...
One by one...
And more people show up, thronging the platform, festive and merry, multi-coloured bright-cheeked couples arm in arm, catcalling kids and football supporters...
He retires to a nearby wall and stands in the shadows.
And it's not long till a bunch of neds, or guys, or football supporters, move up to him and surround him...
Maybe they've come from a football match, maybe they're just ordinary guys from a commonplace, ordinary family, but they surround the serial killer threateningly, harsh electric light cast on their faces from the open door of the station café, small flecks of spittle flying through the air and peppering his glasses and jacket...
And if the killer peeped into the station café, what would he have seen? Warm handsome bohemians sitting talking earnestly, supping coffees, relaxed boys n girls in stalls, curly-headed, leaning over to drawl slowly... and behind them, stations kiosks and bookstores, bright magazine racks and colourful comicbooks, bookstalls, and empty, echoing pantheons, all bathed in bright yellow electric light...