Short Story Collection

Fire Trucks

You hear the sirens.

Dedicated to @OminouslyAnonymous

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Sunlight streams through the window, and, bounces onto your phone. You dodge the light, and, the warm window to read the newest post on Snapchat.
It's a wonderful almost - summer day outside, and, you know you should get out. But, it was a tough day at school, and, you decided to buzz through your text messages.
You sigh, and, lean your head back against the wall. You put your phone down, and, listen to the hum of lawnmowers outside.
It's a calming noise, and, you feel your stress melting away. School is hard, and, no matter what, can't seem to escape the drama. You think of that one person. The one that makes your heart flutter. The one who's your friend. The one that will be there you until the very end.
But, you know, you can't be with them. The school wouldn't approve. You can strut the halls with them, hand, and, hand. To believe that you can fit with them, that's it's fine. School's drama cannot define you.
But, yet, you know it can.
The hum calms you. You open your window, and, let the flowery fragrance waft into your room. The hum is more defiant. You can hear the insects, and, the kids down the street. The clanging of the machines, as the repave the street behind your house.
You slump against the wall, and, let the noises drown everything out.
Then, you hear it.
The sirens.
The wailing sirens.
You don't think much of them, at first. Ever since the new firehouse has been built, down the street, and, hear them almost ten times a day. At night, five times.
The sirens grow, as they pass, and, the shrink away, far down the neighborhood.
The calls of the children resume. The lawnmower starts up again, the insects unpause their hum. The clanging starts.
It's like the whole neighborhood was holding their breath.
But, you still are holding yours.
Living so close to a firehouse is tiring. It wakes you up in the middle of the night, blaring its sirens, as it races down the street. You clamp your eyes shut, and, will for sleep to come over you, again.
But, you know, you can't go back.
You remember how a house burnt, because, of that dry July, and, the bangs of the tenth. You remember your mother threatened to throw out our fireworks, because, it had been so dry. You remember passing the house over the summer, and, seeing it being slowly pulled down. Now, it's the sad, empty driveway, how has trash thrown in its lot. You know, and, you remember.
You never knew the family, or, saw the fire. But, you heard the sirens. You heard your mother talking about it, the next day. But, you felt so close to them.
You've lived here your whole life, and, watched neighbors come, and, gone. How this wasn't the safest neighborhood for your kid. How you always wondered about the shooting that happened last year, in August. A few years after the firework incident. You remember the news crew surveying the people on your street. How it seemed so deserted, afterward.
The firehouse was built, and, new people came. You make friends, but, you know they won't last. The little ones won't be able to make it through the night.
They leave.
But, the sirens.
They become a distant song, something that you are always sub-conscience of. They never gave you much though.
Until you found your twin sister praying whenever they wailed.
She looked up, and, smiled. It was sad, liked she lost someone to fire. But, you knew, she didn't.
But, she put herself in the shoes that did.
Ever since that fateful muggy August evening, you've tried to pay attention to the sirens.
Every day, you check your phone, and, deal with the drama. You hate it, you hate it, you hate the drama.
But, then, the sirens.
It was like the red going through the blue.
The sirens in a perfect early April afternoon.
You come home, and, admire the flowers in the trees, and, decided to make a Musical.ly about them. Just not now.
You suffer through your homework, and, spam your best friend's email.
You'd hear the sirens.
A policeman lives down the street, and, watches the children, as they play in his driveway.
They'd hear the sirens.
The sirens. The sirens. The sirens.
You hear them everywhere.
But, what do they mean?
The flashing of the red noise.
The red, hot noise.
A noise that would run down your spine.
You realize how much that sound is like the flames.
They come out of nowhere. And, attack you. Somehow. You can't shut them out, and, just slam the door on them.
You can't slam your door on the homeless family who lost their house to the burning picks of the siren. A widow, who longs for her husband. But, she has her children, whose father burnt for. His heart yearned for their trust, and, praise. And, went too far to prove his love for them.
You can't slam your door on the children who are scared of the sirens in the night.
You just can't.
They emit something that makes you agree.
You can't shut the door on the sirens.
On the flame.
On the effect.
The family.
The widow.
The children.
That is what the sirens mean.

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851 Words, Originally Published: April 16th, 2018