The flames died slow, painful deaths as they starved for more. But there was no more. The trees were gone, the grass was gone, the bushes were gone. The fire had nowhere left to go. The firefighters pressed on, determined to never to let the flames rise again. They searched for any hint of flame. No glowing ember was left alive to burn. Shovels buried, water quenched, and eyes hunted. No quarter was given, no mercy to the flames. The fire must not be allowed to continue, too much was at stake to let it start again.***Andrew brushed the hair out of my face, peering down at me. His blue eyes stood out against the soot on his cheeks. His hair was a mess with streaks of black from where his dirty hands had brushed through it. The truck engine roared as Ray sped down the road. Andrew smiled down at me and kissed my forehead."You came for me," I whispered. It was easier to breathe now, but my throat still felt like I had swallowed lit charcoal."Of course I came for you. I will always co
A cheer went up. The fire was retreating, forced to consume itself instead of the landscape. Tears of joy from the townspeople mixed with the ash still raining from the sky. The fire wasn't defeated, but hope glowed in the eyes of the people. A renewed energy, a promise of success gave energy where there was none before, powered the hoses and shovels. They would be victorious.***"Thanks, Aunt Heather, we'll be there soon," Andrew said into his phone. He turned and smiled at me, pushing the wheelchair toward the exit. "Aunt Heather is all ready for us to come stay with her. She has a bed made up for you on the ground floor so you don't have to go up the stairs."I smiled as he pushed through the doors and out toward the car. Andrew helped me hop into the passenger's seat, gently guiding my leg into the car. The doctor had put a cast on my ankle and I had to check with an orthopedic specialist in a week, but I was able to go home with pain medication. Since I no longer had a house to
The flames were long since gone. The trees lay scarred and bare, their branches burnt and blackened. The world was made of ash. Yet hope remained. A thin green tendril of life, forged in the heat of flame, emerged from a tiny seed. Another followed quickly. Life sprung from the fertile ground, ready to start the cycle anew. The circle of fire and life continued.***I stood staring at the ruined remnants of West Hardware. The fire was finally contained, and we were allowed to return to the ashes to start rebuilding. My dad was a few feet away talking with Audrey and Ray. I could hear them laughing about something, their voices melding together in the warm summer wind.Audrey's hand rested comfortably on Ray's forearm, a diamond ring glinting in the sun. The wedding had been four days after the fire started in an intimate ceremony at the local chapel. The town had celebrated their wedding, throwing a party in the hotel where most of the evacuees were staying. Everyone said it was the b
The dry grass crackled in the evening breeze. Pale green streaks at the base of the stems were all that showed it was alive, struggling against the heat of the summer sun and a rainless afternoon. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but the clouds refused to release their water. A large sign with a bear in a hat declaring the fire danger “extreme” glared out over the road. A car sped by, the taillights fading into the setting sun. A red glowing cigarette ember flicked out of the open window, landing on the dark asphalt. It rolled gently, swirling in odd circles until finally resting on the edge of the road. The parched breeze puffed, pushing the small glowing light into the grass. It only took a moment for the spark to ignite on the dry tinder, small flames hungrily feeding on the thirsty weeds. The spark of disaster had been lit.***I leaned back against the checkout stand, waiting for something to happen. I had straightened the gum, organized the gift-cards, and even wiped the conveye
"Holly, can you stop at the hardware store and pick up the parts I ordered?" my dad asked as I finished my breakfast the next morning."Sure- I'll stop there on my way to work. Do you want me to pick something up for dinner?" I answered, putting my empty bowl in the dishwasher."Nah, I'll be at work when you get home, so I'll make that rice thing you like and put it in the fridge." He sipped at his coffee, wincing at the heat."Okay. I'll see you later tonight then." I kissed his cheek as I grabbed my keys off the kitchen table and headed out the door.The car was cold, but it was a short drive to West Hardware, and the heat was barely going by the time I got there. The door chimed as I walked in, the smells of tools and wood filling the air. Andrew stopped organizing the shelf he was working on and hurried over to greet me. The store was empty other than the two of us."You here for the parts your dad ordered?" he asked, smiling."You must be a mind reader," I answered, returning his
A small flame grew, feeding on the dry grass. At first, it was more smoke than flame, but it grew quickly. Soon a trickle of flame spread into the deeper grass, finding a feast of dry tinder. It only took moments for the flames to spread along the roadside, incinerating everything they touched. The stars came out to watch the pretty flames dance along the side of the road, their silent light pale compared to the orange and red glow.***I got off my shift at 2:30, so I headed over to our usual meeting spot. I pulled my car into the back corner of the West Hardware Store parking lot and walked along the edge of the crumbling asphalt toward the main building. My feet followed a worn path along the wall of the building, my hand trailing behind me on the warm plastic siding. The back lot of the store was deserted, piles of lumber sitting under big blue plastic tarps. I was the first person there, so I claimed a spot in the sun, pulling back the tarp to sit on the wood.The sunshine was wa
Andrew set the last bag of groceries from the car on the floor of the kitchen, making sure he didn't track any mud into the house. Audrey, his mother, was busy putting them away as quickly as he brought them in. He began to help her, putting the milk in the fridge and shuffling around the contents to make room for the rest of the food.“Thank you for getting the groceries, Andrew. After last night's shift, I just couldn't get going today. Your dad used to do the grocery shopping for me-- he would always buy something special for you, remember?” She stopped for a moment, her eyes going distant, as she drifted into the past.“Yeah, I remember Mom. He would always get me a special cereal or dessert or something. How about I just plan on doing all the grocery shopping from now on? I can do it on my way home from work on Thursdays, and that way and you don't have to worry about it,” Andrew said as he put the eggs away.“Oh no, honey! I am the parent here. You shouldn't have to do that. I a
First, the fire tasted the grass, then a bush, jumping to a twig, to old pine needles, then winding up the base of the dying pine, feasting on the dry fuel. The flames danced and played, gleefully jumping from grass to bush, feeding and consuming without end. The light grew brighter the more it fed on the landscape, gray smoke beginning to cloud the stars.***“It is a shame to hear about that whole West divorce nonsense,” Mrs. Thatcher told me as she put her groceries up on the conveyer belt. It was a slow enough day that I was grateful to have her in my line. Mrs. Thatcher was the local busybody. She knew the gossip about nearly everyone almost as soon as it happened. She had lived in Conifer for as long as everyone could remember, and had been airing everyone's laundry for just as long.“I never liked that Barbara,” she confided in me as she put corn flakes up onto the belt. “Always too high and mighty for her own good. I never really understood why Ray married her, especially sinc