A Burning Memory

• Georgia Acutt, Grade 4
• Short Story
• 2009

As the dawn crept through the mountains, a beautiful light entered the old farm house. That particular morning the sun light was bright like a hot, burning flame of a candle. The farm house was surrounded by trees and bushland. The house had many memories both good and bad.
Early Friday morning Tristan Sorenson sat at his kitchen table and listened to the radio while he enjoyed his billy tea. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud, eerie alarm, warning all people to evacuate immediately as fires were out of control.
Hesitantly the shocked farmer looked out the kitchen window; the mountains were alive with orange flames. Black ash floated in the sky like dry, flaky skin. It was too late to leave. The fire had intensified. It raced across the countryside melting everything in its path.
Tristan would not give in without a fight. He had been through devastating drought and almost lost his entire farm and house to the bank but somehow managed to survive and he would survive this as well.
The fire had already entered his land with asking for permission. It had to be stopped. First he mustered all the animals into the house yard. Then Tristan saturated the roof of the house and shed with water from the dam. Next he would need to make a firebreak.
The fire appeared to magnify while the bushland disappeared. It seemed crazy for Mr Sorenson to be starting a fire of his own however at this point it was his only hope. He burnt around the outer areas of the farm. The smoke was all around him making it difficult to breath. The animals were very nervous but had gone quiet. They sensed something was wrong and all huddled together near the gate. The worried farmer used the last of the water to extinguish the firebreak. The firebreak was two metres wide but would it be enough to stop this ragging fire?
Two days later, the local paper reported that a ragging fire had destroyed the bushland. Amazingly Tristan Sorenson a farmer of the area survived the blackest day ever. The land around him was black and many of his sheds and equipment had burnt to the ground. His house was one of the only houses left standing. Tristan told the paper he was very lucky, the trees and shrubs would eventually grow back, the black ash would disappear but the memory of the fire would be with him for the rest of his life.