Fire in The Eyes

  The smoke was much thicker now, and it was getting harder to breathe. Dad disappeared into the living-room and returned with keys to the car. He yelled something that I couldn’t hear and beckoned me to follow him. The roar of the fire racing over the hill was deafening, closer than ever now. We couldn’t see and had cloths over our faces so we could breathe.

  It had started as any ordinary Sunday morning. Dad was listening to the weather reports and keeping an eye out for me, making sure I was doing my school work properly. He had come in around ten in the morning saying that there were fires around the area, but that we had no need to worry because they were nowhere near our property.

  By one o’clock you could faintly smell the smoke. By two, it was filtering through the house and by the time three o’clock came around, the fire was in one of our back paddocks. This was when panic set in. Dad tried rounding up as many animals as he could, but at the sight of the fire propelling itself towards us from the paddock behind the house made him stop quick smart. He roughly grabbed my shoulder and dragged me inside, telling me to collect any important possessions that I might want. I dug out a bag but had no time to fill it so I flung it in a corner and sprinted after Dad with no idea if I would ever see this place I called home again.