Rooey's Book of Miscellaneous Things

Fire (Short Story)

Seth watched as the town he loved died in front of him, engulfed in flames worthy of those of a mighty dragon. It was the middle of the night, but everything was lit up perfectly in flickering orange and red light. The crickets that lived in the forest surrounding his small village had stopped their cheerful chirping and watched in silence as the town was set ablaze. The town, however, was not silent. Seth heard screams and cries from women who kneeled in the grass at a safe distance from the flames, immobilized by their disbelief. Men shouted at one another while carrying buckets of cold water from the river that ran through the middle of the town. Seth had often played in that river with the other village children when he was younger, but now it was used for the sole purpose of dowsing the roaring flames. People carried valuables from their homes that were near the fire; knowing that the fire would soon spread and there was no hope of saving the cottages themselves. That was the downside of living in a log cabin; wood easily gives way to the hungry flames.

Seth jumped back as he heard a low moan coming from a falling roof. A loud crash signified that his neighbor's home had caved in, weakened by the crackling fire. Seth saw a woman inching along on her unsteady cane, carrying as much as she could in her wrinkled hands. The lady collapsed under the weight of her belongings and Seth rushed over to help her to safety, grabbing her arms and giving her support as they walked. She thanked him and sat in the cool grass as he ran back to fetch her belongings. She carried very little; a silk scarf that looked almost as old as she was, a necklace made of precious jewels, a beautiful porcelain hair clip to tie up her long grey hair, and a sun-washed picture of a young family that had a broken picture frame. He handed the precious objects to her and told her to stay safe, then turned back toward the burning town behind him. The event had brought him back to his senses, and with a newfound courage he ran over to help the men carry buckets to the fire. Many men shooed him away, saying he was too young or too small, but Seth ignored them.

He ran to the river, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears that had formed in his eyes. He wasn't sure why he was crying. In fact, he had a hard time feeling any emotion at all, unlike his usual very emotional personality. Now he just felt numb.

There was a small plastic bucket just in front of where Seth kneeled. Seth couldn't help but smile at it; it brought back so many memories of mud pies and rock collecting; of searching for crayfish under the river stones; of dipping hot, sweaty feet into the cold river water and collecting it to make 'potions' for all of his hot, sweaty friends. Now, this tiny bucket had a larger and more important purpose. He dipped the bucket in the river, carried it to the nearest house, and poured it on the flames. There was a small sizzle, then nothing. He had successfully managed to put out the flames on one small corner of a very large house. The wet wood would not burn quite as easily now, so he had just saved one square foot of the 1,000 square foot house.

"Good for you, Seth. You're a hero," he muttered bitterly.

There was another crack and a loud groan of wood. Seth looked up in horror to see the house beginning to collapse. Several flaming wood beams snapped and fell towards him as the young man scrambled to his feet and made his escape, only to realize one second too late that his foot was I'm the small bucket. Seth felt his ankle twist and the ground came up to meet him.

Seth awoke with a start. His heart was pounding in his chest and his breathing was ragged as he tried to adjust his eyes to the dark room. It was too dark. He tried to remember where he was, and tears filled his eyes as memories of the fire came flooding back.

He dried his eyes with a sleeve that was no longer singed by flames or covered in ash. In fact, he felt no burns, and he didn't smell of smoke. Had he been saved?