Vanishing Into Ashes

• Tahlia Clarke, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2015

Everything was deathly quiet; leaves crunched under me as I struggled upright, the smell of dirt surrounded me as I tried to regulate my ragged breaths. I stood and gazed around, my stomach clenched. Tall skeletons of what were formerly trees reached up towards the sky, their branches like charcoal hands trying to scrape out of the fog also stirring and swirling underneath my feet.
Bits and pieces of what happened flickered back to my mind- the virus, the pandemonium it caused, the creatures of fire, the car crash. A few metres from where I stood were the burnt frames of cars that stretched over the tumbling hill; some were overturned others crumpled into each other. I imagined the screaming, people doing whatever they could to get away from the monsters the airborne virus had created. Skeletons were littered over the road, spilling out of their cars.
I stumbled away from them and ran up the hill, I stopped at the top and the tears that burned in my eyes spilled over my cheeks. The whole city was dark clumps of rubble and half or completely burnt, dilapidated buildings. I slowly walked down the hill, the smell of smoke and burnt wood hung thick in the air like a blanket.
As I weaved through the frameworks of the cars stacked in the streets, I felt this empty ache in my chest. I was alone, alone in this wasteland I used to call home. The feeling gnawed at my insides, every step felt like lead weights were strangling my ankles, trying to break me. I craned my neck up to look at the skyscrapers that poked the leaden clouds brewing overhead, everything was a bleak pallet of grey, like the fires had absorbed the colour of everything in this deteriorating city.
A flash of gold caught my eye in a shop window. The window was cloudy and deep grey, making it difficult to see what was behind the window. As I approached the store, the blur of gold moved. I stopped. Cautiously, I continued towards the hazy glass. I bit my lip and gently wiped the glass, wary of what might spring out at me. I jumped back from the window with a strangled cry of surprise. My reflection stared back at me, brown eyes wide, wet tracks down my cheeks. My hair was tangled below my waist where nine golden tails sprouted from my back. I was affected by the virus. I turned.
Footsteps shuffled behind me. I spun around and came face-to-face with a man with golden wings of fire on his back, fluttering slowly. There were at least five-hundred people standing behind him, with either nine golden tails or wings behind them, regarding me with wariness and curiosity. “What’s your name, *Kitsune?” He asked, curiously. I swallowed twice before I squeaked out, “Isidora.” He smiled, “My name’s Harvey,” he wrapped his arm around my shoulder turning me towards the crowd, “welcome to the New World.”
*Japanese fox spirit