The buildings burned and the flames slithered inside of black smoke. It all danced as it formed thick tufts that disappeared into the sky. The customers from the supermarket across the street watched with urgency. “Look how high the flames are growing,” one woman said. The sirens were steadily on their way. The breeze pushed the flames into a nearby tree and within moments the tree caught fire. Spectators gasped. Nobody did anything but stand there waiting for the sirens.
The rain was on and off all day long. It just so happened that it decided to come back just as the bright red fire engines halted in front of the searing catastrophe. People held hands in anticipation. The fire fighters quickly stepped out of their respected trucks and two men slipped and fell to the wet pavement. The rain didn’t affect the fire. Everybody watched Motion’s Vacuum and Sewing Repair melt away. The stairways that led to the roofs of the buildings were brittle. One suddenly collapsed and sparks rushed into all of their eyes. The front window of an Crab’s Insurance exploded into the streets and everybody screamed. Glass and fire burst everywhere. The fire Chief pulled his helmet down over his eyes and kept his hand over his heart.
The fire fighters secured a hydrant and attached the hose. The same two men who had slipped carried it. They reached the head of the fire and the hose released into the storefront of Sally’s Nails & Hair. Some people watching couldn’t help but fall to pieces. Children cried and held onto their parents . . .
Not a bad start, he thought. He stood from the table and refilled his cup with coffee. He sat back down and stared out the window. This neighborhood never has anything to look at. Just houses and apartments. Cars drive by, pedestrians walk around. Sometimes the next-door neighbor waters his wife’s orchids. Dull. Bland. Boring. When the dust settles, it builds suburbs.
He sipped the coffee and stared at the last sentence. Where to go next. Utter destruction? Towns demolished? Widespread chaos? A domino effect started by the first match set to the first bottle of nail polish remover . . . Was that how the fire started? Or was it a degenerate behind the insurance office huffing spray paint? Or an electrical malfunction . . . He laughed.
He sat back and smiled, contemplated the work. One of the firemen could have been involved. Some drunk, secretly a sociopath, just sick of the routine–the Chief! That’s where it all ends–with the Chief! Shit. He thought and thought. And what about the end? How many deaths involved: Thousands? Millions? A genocide? Would this become the kick-start to the end of time as we know it? God’s work. Surely then, it couldn’t be just a fire . . .
He stood and paced the room. He filled a glass with water and drank. He sat and began typing. The words came fast. He didn’t notice when his neighbor turned on the hose.
Author: Lawrence Goodwin
