Bush Rain

• Amalia Corbalan, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2021

I blinked hard, trying desperately to change the unusual orange hue in the tent back to normal. A carousel of questions whirled through my head. I stepped out into what seemed like the planet Mars, a blood-red sky engulfed with thick orange haze. Earth was choking on it’s bushland as fragments of burnt nature came silently spluttering down and it cried ash. The suffocating smoke surrounded us attacking our lungs and noses. It was like a horror movie.

The sky’s grey blanket covered our view of the beach across the road. I could still make out though, the herd of people that had appeared in front of the Tathra Life Saving Club. I wondered what the commotion was. Curiosity pulled me in their direction. Bunches of worried faces gathered in football huddles all over the carpark. Their cars, trailers and caravans occupied what little space was available. Much of Australia’s bushland was being barbecued and these people had fled the fire’s fury and made it to their lifeboat, this small beachside town. Unfortunately, the insatiable fires were rapidly closing in on the town.

Down at the beach, ink-coloured waves pulsated and washed-up clumps of charred bush and piles of ash, covering the once pristine beach. The charcoaled debris was strewn in artistic patterns for as far as the eye could see. Birds had vanished. The lucky few had escaped to a safer environment; the rest were eerily washed up amongst the debris. What is usually a place of serenity and happiness, was now a distressing scene. I stared at the horizon for an eternity, where the red met the blue whilst ash rained down on me. Despite the roaring heat of the blood sun, a shiver ran up my spine when I realised we might not make it out of here in time.

The word around town was that vital supplies like Ventolin and petrol were becoming scarce. Suddenly I became aware of my tight chest and took an exaggerated breath in, desperately craving clean air. We hastily made our way to the local pharmacy under the streetlights that turned on due to the false night.

Deciding to leave town, we walked back to our campsite with heavy hearts, on the verge of tears. We were some of the lucky ones who were able to fill up our tank with petrol. The difficulty was finding a safe route home as most of our usual eight-hour journey was up in flames. Time was running out as more towns were being consumed by the ferocious beast severely limiting our pathways home. For hours I watched my parents pack up our campsite at a speed they’d never done before. Heartbroken our holiday was over, we scrambled into our soot covered car and joined the long queue that led us out of town. My lungs inflated to full capacity as I breathed in the filtered air from the car. I closed my eyes, exhausted, not knowing what the journey home would entail.