Story: Self-Fulfilling
Written for: brigits_flame, August/September mini challenge 2011
Prompt: Bring On The Fire
Words: 947
Rating: PG
Self-Fulfilling
We had seen the burning forest while visiting friends the previous week. Before that, I had only seen forest fires on television, which never quite showed their real force.
We stopped at the side of a small road and although fire was still quite a distance away, the crackling of burning eucalyptus trees was loud enough to make two year old Evan cower behind his mother.
We didn’t stay long, but the fire had burned its way into my mind.
As it turned out, we weren’t the only ones worried. On Sunday, my wife Louise and I went to the Wakefields for tea as usual. While Louise and Mrs. Wakefield took Evan and the Wakefield’s children to out to the swings, the conversation between John and me turned to the drought and the subsequent fires.
“When I was a boy, my father used to say fire breaks were the only solution,” John said. “You burn a stripe of ground and if there’s a real fire, there’s nothing left for it to consume. I’ll be making a fire break and it won’t be much more work to extend it around your property as well.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” I asked, a bit uncertain.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve done it dozens of times with my father. It’s only a small fire and keeping it under control with garden hoses and fire beaters is easy. Besides, we can use the stream to limit it to one side. Only a larger fire would be able to cross that. You have tomorrow off, don’t you? Why don’t we do it then?”
“Yes, tomorrow afternoon would be fine,” I replied, persuaded by the fact that John had been living in the region since his childhood, while I had only recently moved there.
It was late in the evening when we left.
“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. I’ll bring the fire beater and the garden hose,” I said to John.
“John didn’t talk you into his ridiculous plan to make a fire break, did he?!” Mrs. Wakefield demanded, shooting an angry look at her husband. “Those fires always get out of control!”
“Now, Clara…” John began, but was immediately interrupted.
“Look, I don’t care what mind-numbingly stupid things you do, but you shouldn’t pull others into it. Louise, why don’t you and Evan come to town with me and the children tomorrow instead, I still wanted to show you that new shop. We might as well go then.”
Louise agreed, shifting our sleeping son to a more comfortable position and we uncomfortably finished saying goodbye.
“Well, I doubt the remaining evening will be very pleasant for John,” I said to Louise as we walked towards our house.
“Are you sure burning fire break is a good idea? Clara seemed pretty worried…” Louise asked.
“John seemed confident it’s harmless and you know how much good advice he has given us so far. Besides, you know what a worrywart Mrs. Wakefield is. I’m sure it will be fine.”
The next afternoon, John showed me how wide the fire break beside the stream would be. We drenched the grass at the other edge of the fire break with water to prevent the fire from spreading further.
We started the fire where the stream flowed under the bridge of the road. Everything went as planned. The breeze the smoke blew over the stream and we hardly had to use the fire beaters. The fire burned away the dry grass and we made sure no glowing embers remained in the ashes.
After the fire passed the bend in the stream, the wind direction was no longer quite as favorable, but the fire was mainly blown towards the area we had already cleared.
“If it continues this way, it will take a bit longer till the fire break is finished,” John said. “But we’re not really in a hurry. It will be hours before our wives return.”
I nodded and beat at the flames lapping at grass beyond the boundaries of the fire break.
A little while later, the breeze began to change its direction and our fire beaters had to be put to use much more frequently. The garden hose John was using to make sure the grass beside the fire break stayed wet began being employed to put out small fires outside the fire break.
It was more work than before, but everything remained under control before the breeze suddenly turned into a brisk wind. Sparks sprang up from the fire and leapt over the area we had kept watered. Patches of fire sprang up in the dry grass on the other side and we rushed to extinguish them.
It wasn’t long before we were out of breath from the smoke being blow straight towards us and from our haste to extinguish as many of the fires as possible. The small fires began joining together to larger fires and the flames began licking at small bushes, which then also caught fire.
Our efforts became more frantic. My eyes burned from the smoke and small sparks flew against my skin while I beat against the growing flames. When I noticed we were being forced further and further away from the stream, I realized the situation was far out of control. Despite John’s protests, I rushed to my house to finally call the fire service.
By the time I returned, gusts of wind had already carried sparks over the stream and ignited the grass there. John was fighting a losing battle against the flames, being driven towards the houses.
It would be only a matter of minutes before the fire reached the wooden terrace of the Wakefield’s house.
Prompt: Bring On The Fire
Words: 947
Rating: PG
Self-Fulfilling
We had seen the burning forest while visiting friends the previous week. Before that, I had only seen forest fires on television, which never quite showed their real force.
We stopped at the side of a small road and although fire was still quite a distance away, the crackling of burning eucalyptus trees was loud enough to make two year old Evan cower behind his mother.
We didn’t stay long, but the fire had burned its way into my mind.
As it turned out, we weren’t the only ones worried. On Sunday, my wife Louise and I went to the Wakefields for tea as usual. While Louise and Mrs. Wakefield took Evan and the Wakefield’s children to out to the swings, the conversation between John and me turned to the drought and the subsequent fires.
“When I was a boy, my father used to say fire breaks were the only solution,” John said. “You burn a stripe of ground and if there’s a real fire, there’s nothing left for it to consume. I’ll be making a fire break and it won’t be much more work to extend it around your property as well.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” I asked, a bit uncertain.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve done it dozens of times with my father. It’s only a small fire and keeping it under control with garden hoses and fire beaters is easy. Besides, we can use the stream to limit it to one side. Only a larger fire would be able to cross that. You have tomorrow off, don’t you? Why don’t we do it then?”
“Yes, tomorrow afternoon would be fine,” I replied, persuaded by the fact that John had been living in the region since his childhood, while I had only recently moved there.
It was late in the evening when we left.
“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. I’ll bring the fire beater and the garden hose,” I said to John.
“John didn’t talk you into his ridiculous plan to make a fire break, did he?!” Mrs. Wakefield demanded, shooting an angry look at her husband. “Those fires always get out of control!”
“Now, Clara…” John began, but was immediately interrupted.
“Look, I don’t care what mind-numbingly stupid things you do, but you shouldn’t pull others into it. Louise, why don’t you and Evan come to town with me and the children tomorrow instead, I still wanted to show you that new shop. We might as well go then.”
Louise agreed, shifting our sleeping son to a more comfortable position and we uncomfortably finished saying goodbye.
“Well, I doubt the remaining evening will be very pleasant for John,” I said to Louise as we walked towards our house.
“Are you sure burning fire break is a good idea? Clara seemed pretty worried…” Louise asked.
“John seemed confident it’s harmless and you know how much good advice he has given us so far. Besides, you know what a worrywart Mrs. Wakefield is. I’m sure it will be fine.”
The next afternoon, John showed me how wide the fire break beside the stream would be. We drenched the grass at the other edge of the fire break with water to prevent the fire from spreading further.
We started the fire where the stream flowed under the bridge of the road. Everything went as planned. The breeze the smoke blew over the stream and we hardly had to use the fire beaters. The fire burned away the dry grass and we made sure no glowing embers remained in the ashes.
After the fire passed the bend in the stream, the wind direction was no longer quite as favorable, but the fire was mainly blown towards the area we had already cleared.
“If it continues this way, it will take a bit longer till the fire break is finished,” John said. “But we’re not really in a hurry. It will be hours before our wives return.”
I nodded and beat at the flames lapping at grass beyond the boundaries of the fire break.
A little while later, the breeze began to change its direction and our fire beaters had to be put to use much more frequently. The garden hose John was using to make sure the grass beside the fire break stayed wet began being employed to put out small fires outside the fire break.
It was more work than before, but everything remained under control before the breeze suddenly turned into a brisk wind. Sparks sprang up from the fire and leapt over the area we had kept watered. Patches of fire sprang up in the dry grass on the other side and we rushed to extinguish them.
It wasn’t long before we were out of breath from the smoke being blow straight towards us and from our haste to extinguish as many of the fires as possible. The small fires began joining together to larger fires and the flames began licking at small bushes, which then also caught fire.
Our efforts became more frantic. My eyes burned from the smoke and small sparks flew against my skin while I beat against the growing flames. When I noticed we were being forced further and further away from the stream, I realized the situation was far out of control. Despite John’s protests, I rushed to my house to finally call the fire service.
By the time I returned, gusts of wind had already carried sparks over the stream and ignited the grass there. John was fighting a losing battle against the flames, being driven towards the houses.
It would be only a matter of minutes before the fire reached the wooden terrace of the Wakefield’s house.