Flames

• Cecilia Xu, Grade 5, Korowa Anglican Girls School
• Short Story
• 2018

Finalist in the 'Time To Write 2018/2019' competition

Delicate Tears slid down my pale face as I place the final beautiful bouquet of flowers before the dull grave. I stared gloomily into the remains of the school yard and saw Millie and myself there, examining it carefully. The icy breeze tickled my arm like an adorable puppy wanting to play. I looked down. Millie had left the world, she had left the school, she had left… me. Tears escaped from my big, brown eyes once more before I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered to myself gently, “I still remember that day…”
Fiery sparks stung my moist skin as I ran out of the school yard. A dangerous fire had threatened our whole school to quickly depart this ancient building or it’d swallow us as his delectable entree. My young teacher grabbed me by the arm, dragging me to safety. I watched worriedly as the much-loved school nurse helped calmly with the evacuating the frightened children from out of the tall building as quick as lightning. I spun round to face Millie, my best friend, but she wasn’t there. A scanned the chaotic crowd, in desperate search for her. Nothing. A sudden fear seemed to arise from the very depths of my shaking body. What if she was still in the deserted classroom, looking for me? Before I could do anything, the fierce flames encircled our precious school like a lion trapping its poor prey. After what seemed like seconds, the ferocious fire angrily devoured our school, with Millie as desert. I felt tears streaming down my face. Too late…
“Honey, it’s time to leave for your new school. I know that the loss of Millie is really hard to take in, but you can’t change the past.” My mother’s sweet voice rang in my ears, transporting me back to the present. I started to fiddle uncontrollably with my cherry red pinafore, I didn’t want to leave my best and only friend. My mother sighed. “Well, I’ll wait for you in the car, okay?” I nodded sadly. I could hear the freezing wind muttering in my ear, “Go, leave this place before it is too late.” I obeyed. The luminous faraway birds tweeted goodbye as my footsteps slowly faded away in the mud.
Little did I know that after I had left my old school, the dusty grave burnt itself down into a million tiny pieces and a silhouette, the perfect size of an eleven-year-old girl, emerged from the middle of the remains of the building.