Short horror stories

Within the Fire

The first "occurrence" happened on the first day of the transfer. My new firefighting team consisted of four people including me and Charles from the New York district. The other two firefighters Zach and Angela were both from Jacksonville but new to firefighting. We had only met each other for maybe half an hour when the alarm sounded, and a voice sounded over the intercoms, "Company 17 - Truck 66, Truck 62! Reported kitchen fire and civilians trapped at 283rd Forest Ave!" We didn't even wait a second before dashing into the garage. Racing towards the fire, we could already see a thick trail in the distance as we weaved through traffic and bounced off road. By the time we arrived, most of the building seemed to be ablaze. Clambering out of the vehicle, I moved towards the fire hydrant when I suddenly heard screams from the third floor over the roaring of the fire. Not stopping, I called to Charles and Angela to prepare a ladder while I hooked up the fire hydrant to the vehicle.

The lieutenant from Truck 62 yelled out, "We got first floor, you guys get third, we'll clear out at second!" and with that, I scrambled up the ladder while flipping on my respirator, with Charles following right behind me. As I made my way up to the open window, I immediately noticed the lack of heat. From a fire of this intensity, I normally would already be sweating and panting like a dog in a desert. Ignoring this abnormality I clambered through the window, when I heard another scream.

I called out, "This is the Jacksonville Fire Department. We're coming to get you!" As I took another step forward, I heard a third scream, however, unlike the first two, this sounded unearthly. It sounded like a high pitched roar with the overwhelming power of a speeding train, and it echoed through the wall next to us. Taken aback, I looked at Charles, who shared the same confused, worried expression.

I unhooked my fire axe and slammed it into the adjacent wall. Charles started to clamber into the next room but we both froze when we saw her. She was pale. Pale with splotches of crimson red set around her body. This was first thing I noticed. Then I saw her eyes. I had never seen such agony, such despair in my life. I felt my heart wrench, and I took another step forward when I suddenly noticed her skin. It was drooping, oozing away as wax leaks from a melting candle. I took took two steps back as Charles stumbled over into me. As she turned her face, more of her skin dropped off her cheeks. When her mouth opened at a hellishly unnatural angle, the only sound which came out was a choked, muffled croak. It took a few steps towards us but faltered in the middle of the room. Her arm moved up in a jerky motion, and I raised my axe instinctively, but as she made another staggered step a ragged shroud of black smoke billowed from the back wall, seemingly reaching out and snatching the girl. I cried out as the vapour withdrew with the melting creature, both of them rippling through the wall and vanishing.

Hours after this incident, Charles and I decided not to tell anyone (not like anyone would believe us anyway). Our brains were fried, our energy exhausted so we called it a day. Charles went home, and I took a break in the truck. The thought of the amount of paperwork we would have to handle already doused our bewilderment of the disappearing girl.

The building had entirely collapsed, and we had rescued the three people trapped in the building. While clearing out the debris, which we normally do to search for any signs of life, Zach had found a horrifying discovery. At first we thought he had picked up a burnt piece of wood, but upon more careful inspection, it was quite evidently a charred human left hand, with the fingers bent at unbelievable angles, the skin peeling off. Holding down a rising urge to throw up, I notified the police crew on the scene to take away the hand.

About five days later, we were called to another fire in which a home on the outskirts of Jacksonville had caught alight. When we arrived at the scene, I began unravelling the high pressure fire hose when a young boy, maybe 6 or 7 years old ran out of the burning front door, screaming, "Help! Mommy and Alice are still inside!" As Angela ran over to calm him down, Charles and I put on our respirators and moved towards the front door. We leaped through the flames, feeling the heat lick at our coats. I called out, "This is the Jacksonville Fire Department! We're coming to get you!" and immediately, there was a response.