“This Accidental Arsonist”
By Matthew Harris
Both parents, but especially my father, encouraged my curiosity even at a very young age to experiment with all
sorts of combustible and dangerous materials! My Father was the renowned Chemist B.B. Harris and my mother the
late culinary cuisine queen Harmit Harms Kuritsky, the gal who’s troth he pledged while holding some bubbling
sinister looking flask in hand.
No matter a bit tentative to experiment willy-nilly with rather explosive material, I received truckloads of ammunition, in
tandem with benevolent benediction, to foster dare devil and derelict pyromaniac precocity.
Those formative forays per assaying, assessing and carefully calibrating this, that or the other liquid or powdery
substance found me meticulously measuring and weighing the substances using kid gloves.
Frequent disappointment arose from yours truly as well as momma and papa when the net result of these early
attempts to blend powders and/or liquids merely fizzled and self extinguished into a near inaudible poof.
Continual practice, at first blush insistent discipline fraught with quiet protestations, eventually bore successful fruit
in the form of near perfect results.
I do sheepishly admit to you that on occasion the outcome went awry! Nonetheless, they prided their potential wizard
in the making with kudos.
In addition, they proudly pointed (upward) to the kitchen ceiling. There such handiworks practically covered the
entire ceiling with variegated splotches!
Quite accurate to assume that father and mother coached, goaded, and nurtured exploratory ambitions and tried
not to stifle (at least consciously or deliberately) my early stage ambition toward a scientific artiste bent!
As a home schooled and self-taught muralist, I grew up in a Unitarian household that paid close attention also
adhered to the pioneer spirit!
The near limitless boundaries of understanding an underlying credo allowed one opportunity never regretted now
later life!
By Matthew Harris
Both parents, but especially my father, encouraged my curiosity even at a very young age to experiment with all
sorts of combustible and dangerous materials! My Father was the renowned Chemist B.B. Harris and my mother the
late culinary cuisine queen Harmit Harms Kuritsky, the gal who’s troth he pledged while holding some bubbling
sinister looking flask in hand.
No matter a bit tentative to experiment willy-nilly with rather explosive material, I received truckloads of ammunition, in
tandem with benevolent benediction, to foster dare devil and derelict pyromaniac precocity.
Those formative forays per assaying, assessing and carefully calibrating this, that or the other liquid or powdery
substance found me meticulously measuring and weighing the substances using kid gloves.
Frequent disappointment arose from yours truly as well as momma and papa when the net result of these early
attempts to blend powders and/or liquids merely fizzled and self extinguished into a near inaudible poof.
Continual practice, at first blush insistent discipline fraught with quiet protestations, eventually bore successful fruit
in the form of near perfect results.
I do sheepishly admit to you that on occasion the outcome went awry! Nonetheless, they prided their potential wizard
in the making with kudos.
In addition, they proudly pointed (upward) to the kitchen ceiling. There such handiworks practically covered the
entire ceiling with variegated splotches!
Quite accurate to assume that father and mother coached, goaded, and nurtured exploratory ambitions and tried
not to stifle (at least consciously or deliberately) my early stage ambition toward a scientific artiste bent!
As a home schooled and self-taught muralist, I grew up in a Unitarian household that paid close attention also
adhered to the pioneer spirit!
The near limitless boundaries of understanding an underlying credo allowed one opportunity never regretted now
later life!
New Hampshire Writers Flash Fiction
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