by Angela Kempe
Conrad felt a slow bead of sweat roll off his brow. Even through the fogginess of his mask, he could see the flames lapping violently in front of him. Le Dragon lift its giant wings into the sky, flames consuming its body like hell itself had taken form. Then, the great monster beat his wings down onto the ground and the trees shook and their roots came out of the earth. There was a thunderous roar as the tall pines toppled and the forest blazed and crackled. Conrad could hear the ghastly shriek of animals running for their lives and horror washed over him.
He stared into the eyes of the beast, lift his heavy hose and signaled to the man at his right. There was a moment when he remembered his daughter, her silky blonde curls, and the little pink bow that kept falling out of her baby thin hair. Then the water gushed up. Conrad flexed his muscles and gripped his hose with all his might and Le Dragon howled, and his cry rang up into the black sky.
“Hold your position,” Conrad yelled, catching the others out of the corner of his eye.
Thousands of acres burnt that night. What once was a lush forest of green pine had in hours become a wasteland. Trunks blackened ten feet up from the root. A forest thinned so much that one could see straight through for miles upon miles. But like all things, the wounds of the earth began healing. Grass sprouted from the ash and the animals soon returned. The runners and hikers came back to their paths and only the tall corpses of the forest lingered over them as a solemn reminder.
Deep in the forest where no one goes, too far for the runners or even the cyclists. There is the place where Conrad stood. A place that is lush and green.
*Dedicated to the firefighters who saved the forest rather than saving themselves.