Black Saturday

• Hannah Watts, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2015

In spite of the gloom-ridden sky and the silence surrounding the area, there is a vibrant glow from the cantaloupe and flushed ginger inferno that sits silently on the mountain, providing a beautiful picture. Amongst the peace of twilight he's struck with fear and uncertainty. He's alone, wide eyed and vigilant, not sure what to do. A bulb flickers on next door and he watches the family hastily turn on all the lights. He hears a baby whine, a mother's footsteps and a dog bark. Then there is a hush and the silence is repaid. He has his head down, then lifts it and examines the large paddock before him. Elongated, a stretch of...darkness. There is a silence that is almost deafening, like a mute that is trying too hard to keep quiet.

He glances up at the hump coated with grey dirt and dried out gum. The blaze has crept down further, almost halfway. He is still but his pulse is racing, his legs twitching. The front door slams open, a child in pyjamas is crying inside and a distressed father runs out the front door, his dressing robe flaring behind him. He moves to the side of the house and grabs a bucket and brings it to the porch. This time the mother paces out the door, her young baby in her arms. She rocks it back and forth but nothing soothes it's unease.

Now the combustion has painted the mountain, a blanket amber, sandy yellow and wine coloured flames. He can see the embers spitting off the fire, floating up into the darkness. The flames are large now, doubling in size with every second. They dance and leap in the air, reaching hungrily for anything to fuel it's craving. He can feel the air becoming heavy, hot and suffocating. The waft of smoke is intoxicating.

He spends a few minutes glancing at the family who hurry about grabbing buckets and a long, snake - like hose. The father's pouring water around his house while the mother is inside with the children. By now the burning has reached the golden grass and spreads immediately, pouncing excitedly forward like an unchained tiger. It comes fast, rolling in like a giant body of water.

With a frame work of autumn colours, towering like a giant wall, he watches as a mob of Eastern grey kangaroo's energetically bounce past. He watches their hind legs bounce off the ground, their chestnut tail keeping them balance. He joins them, his front paws touching the ground and then pushing off, thrusting into a leap, over and over. His heart beats rapidly and his ears spike up. As he moves into the distance he peers back, he focuses on the imagery of the young family risking their lives to defend their home. As he comes to a slow halt he gets a last glimpse of the victims of calamity, only alarmed hours earlier, before a screen of fire shields his vision.