The Fire, The Flame And The Fear.

• Madison Saunders, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2018

It was midnight, but not a single person in the small town of Rootwood, North Queensland noticed. They did however, notice the overwhelming fire bearing down on them, they noticed every change of wind sending new flames in all directions, they noticed the heavy air and thick ash covering everything and everyone.
A young girl with hair to match the deadliest flame stood, defiantly wrapped in thick blankets beating at flames and embers with wattle branches. She stood beside three other people who were unrecognisable, though reckless in their pursuit to protect their town. What could’ve been ten minutes or two hours later the four strangers collapsed against various tree stumps exhausted and tired, the flames had burned out but the smoke was still thick and in the wake of the bush fire there would be death, destruction and un-imaginable horrors. For now, there was only silence.
Matilda walked the long route back to the house. When she arrived at the homestead there was a certain, uncharacteristic stillness. Matilda hopped up the stairs two at a time stopping at the top briefly to examine the destruction of the last fire. She dropped the blankets at the door and continued into the drawing room, her hair erupting from the once tightly knotted braid. She reached the door way and froze, her mother sat in the arm chair near the window with a cold cup of tea beside her. The family cattle dog sat at her feet though there were a number of other guests which the quiet house had not alluded to. Immediately regretting her choice not to change clothes or brush her unkept hair, Matilda quietly walked around the outskirts of the room to her mother’s side.
“Where have you been?” Mrs Steedman quietly whispered when Matilda reached her side.
“I was helping Dad and Joey with the flames out old McGintley’s way...” Matilda trailed off, something she had just said prompted her mother to suddenly sit up straight. All the eyes in the room immediately turned, drawn by the abrupt movement. It was then that Matilda recognised the people in the room, her older brother had arrived before her and was sitting on the other side of Mrs Steedman looking as presentable as she did. Around them were a number of other workers and families from surrounding property who most definitely would have lost their homes and many belongings, but her father hadn’t returned.
“Where’s Dad?” Matilda asked turning back to her mother.
“He hasn’t got back yet, last I saw him was when we split some time ago.” Her brother answered, “I’m sure he will be back soon.”
Matilda was less confident, it wasn’t unusual to lose people to a fire. She turned towards the window in a desperate attempt to see her father, but the thick smoke made that impossible. Matilda’s face erupted into a smile as a booming voice called from the entrance to their house with a distinguishable hint of humour,
“Anyone home?”