Terrible Beauty

• Elise Houlahan, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2013

Fire licked at the tall, dry grass. It sought more, reaching through the bush. Animals raced for their lives, away from the scorching fire. Many fell and stumbled, quickly consumed by the growing blaze. Flames grasped for the trees, dry leaves going up in seconds. Kangaroos and wallabies leaped for a false safety. Flames clung to them, burning them alive. Some already lay, fallen with singed hides and rolling eyes. Smoke was thick in the air, adding to the insanity. Destruction and fear was everywhere. I felt as if I were drowning; drowning in fire. The scent of burnt flesh and smoke obliterated all else. Its sharp smell assaulted my nose. Death and flame were everywhere, everything. Nothing seemed to register. My lungs felt as if they would burst inside my chest. Embers drifted softly down from the tree tops. Eerily, gently glowing they came, landing on my arms, hair, shoulders. Accompanying them, small nips of pain that touched my nerves. My palate tasted only the tanginess of smoke. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, but it only made me more aware of the numbness in my limbs.
I was frozen. On a deserted highway. Parallel to the fire. The world was silent other than the crackle and pop of destructive flames. I replayed my muffled, confused memories from last night. The smell of cooked flesh was everywhere. Toxic black smoke was thick; choking numerous sets of lungs. Infants and children crying out for anyone who cared. Piles of dead and dying bodies lying, motionless or groaning on the ground. More people screaming, pounding and begging for mercy behind locked doors. Many had just given up, sitting next to dead loved ones and praying through tears. My family was dead. And hopefully, I would soon follow.
The fire roared, as if welcoming my defeat. It was merciless, indifferent and powered by a hunger to kill. Some animals, the stragglers, still fled the burnished flames. They were unable to see that there was no escape. I could. I moved towards the bush oven. The sound of burning was almost musical. I allowed myself to breathe in a lungful of smoke. The sun began to set; my last day alive. I do not know how the fire started, nor did I care why. I only care for what it has taken from me. I force myself further and further into the flames, brushing hot bark with my fingertips. I was burning. No one was left to remember or grieve me. The certainty that I was going to die, be gone from this land of burning relieved me, but at the same time scared me senseless.
Fire snaked up my pants and along my arms. Finally, I screamed. I had changed my mind; I could deal with the ashes of tomorrow. Anything but this. Searing pain shot up through my body in intense waves that no words can describe. I wanted to pull away, run as far as I could from the terrible flames. But the ragged, charred flesh that had been my legs would not obey. A last scream ripped itself from my throat only to be swallowed up by a rush of noise from a falling tree. I lay in agony, dying. Just like the kangaroos and wallabies all around here. The world began to fade, melting into the shadows. The pain from the fire dulled and my chest drew in one last smoky breath. My eyes glassed over and I died, burning and hurting; but almost happy still. I would see my family soon.