#A-Z: Death By... Air

The premise of my A-Z series: I've written a series of short stories based on unusual deaths starting with a different letter of the alphabet--Death By...

The Contest: If you can guess who the story is about or what event I'm writing about (leave the answer in your comment) based on the short story, you get a point. At the end of the month, I will tally up the points and the top five will each win a $10 gift card to amazon. I mean, if there is more than five top scorers, I may throw all the names into a hat and pick five but I'm hoping there will be top five.

Now, to the first story...

Who or what event is portrayed in this story?

Death By Air

“Come on, come on, come on, baby now, you know you twist so fine.” Valentin moved his arms and his legs, twisting to the ground as he sang. Although the song was American, he had heard it when one of his group brought it back from his travels abroad. Soon, all the men and their wives were singing it, including his wife, Lina. 

How he missed his wife. Ten days had passed since he saw her and he still had another five more days without her. From the pocket of his woollen coveralls, he pulled out a small black and white photograph and smiled. In the field behind his house, his son had begged him to spin him around like an aeroplane. 

 

“I want to fly up into the sky, just like you, Dad,” he had said. “Spin me round, spin me round. I want to know what you will feel.”

Valentin had done as he was asked, and his wife, who had just bought the camera with money she had saved up, captured the spin on film.

After he turned on the electric burner, he placed the kettle on top. He unbuttoned his coveralls and removed the monitoring bio-sensors from his chest. Rubbing alcohol sat on a shelf behind him. He soaked a cotton ball and he washed his skin where the sensors left round red marks on his chest.

With the flick of his wrist, the cotton ball flew through the air towards the trash but it fell short and landed on the hot plate. The cotton immediately ignited and flames swooshed into the air. Valentine pulled his arm from his sleeve and used it to slap at the fire but it caught fire in the oxygen-rich environment.

Within minutes, the fire ate up Valentine’s wool clothing. Outside the room, he could hear the doctor pulling violently on the pressure sealed door.

“It was my fault, no one else is to blame....” he uttered when the doctor had released enough pressure to open the door and pull him from the room. “It was my fault, no one else is to blame....”

Who or what event is portrayed in this story?