Fire Summoner

Chapter One: The North Field

Harold was getting ready for bed when he saw his field catch fire. He had been in the bathroom, washing his face free of the last bits of shaving cream that his razor had left behind, when he happened to glance out the window through the mirror above the sink. At first, he thought it was the light of his lamp that he had lit reflecting on the surface of the window. At a second, more focused look, he saw the sparks and smoke rising up into the air above. He swore loudly, startling his wife, Charlotte, who was sitting up in bed in the next room reading her book.

Bolting out of the bathroom and into the hallway frantically, he shouted to Charlotte, "Lottie! Call the fire department! The damn field is on fire! Goddamn it, it's been so dry the past month, the whole thing is gonna be gone in less than fifteen minutes!"

Harold hustled down the stairs fumbling for his boots and jacket in the dark. Charlotte was close behind him, having jumped out of bed when he had mentioned a fire. "Harold, where the hell are you going?" she shouted after him, stopping at the bottom of the stairs so that she too could pull on her boots and jacket.

  "Gonna grab a shovel, go fill some buckets with water, I have to smother it with dirt or somethin to stop it spreading." Harold shouted over his shoulder as he ran to the tool shed in the dark.

"And if it does spread?? You think a little dirt is going to stop that blaze?" Charlotte said as she ran out the door behind him, her braided hair flying out behind her, coming undone slightly.

"It's going to be a minute before the fire department gets here to help out, even longer if you don't get back inside and call them! I have to at least try to stop it from spreading out of the field!"

Harold and Charlotte lived in southern Indiana, near Clarksville, on a small plot of land given to Harold by his late father. He and Charlotte worked hard here to earn a living here, but most of the time they struggled to make ends meet. If this fire spread, that would be the end of their livelihood.

Charlotte huffed after her husband, frustrated with his headstrong attitude. She spun from her spot on the back porch and stomped back inside to the phone on the wall next to their refrigerator. Dialing the local fire department, which was ten minutes away from their small farm, she knew even before receiving assurance that a truck was on the way that she and Harold would have to try to contain the fire on their own. Grabbing a bucket beside the back door at the porch, Charlotte filled it with water and hurried after the outline of her husband in the distance.

Harold had already reached the edge of the field and began to shoulder his way through the wheat, using the smell of smoke and the ominous glow of the fire in the distance as his guide.

Quicker than he had anticipated, he came across the on-fire clearing. Smoke burned his eyes and lungs as he pulled his night shirt up over his nose and mouth. Pushing his shovel into the charred earth with his boot, he turned and began to try to smother the base of the outer flames.

But before he could turn around and grab more dirt, something amazing happened. The clearing had gone dark. The smell of smoke remained, and a cluster of embers sat in the middle of a charred circle where the fire had been not two seconds ago, but the sparks and heat of the roaring blaze that Harold had been so sure would take his farm was completely gone. "What the hell," he muttered to himself, turning around wildly. "Am I dreaming? It was right here in front of me."

Charlotte caught up with him at that moment. "Jesus Harold, how'd you manage to put it all out? I was only a minute or two behind you," she said out of breath. The residual smoke started to burn in her lungs too.

Coughing and hacking up spit in an attempt to get the taste of smoke out of his mouth, Harold turned to shrug at his wife, "I don' know Lottie, one second I was throwin dirt and the next it was gone! Maybe the fire wasn't as bad as we thought it wa-"