My mother speeds down the dirt path. I watch out the back window as the bright orange fire flickers against the smoke, fading into the distance.
My mother sighs heavily. I know she is thinking what I am thinking: we feel relief.
Our past has finally gone up in flames.
Brooke Lund is a grade 11 student at Charlottetown Rural High school. She submitted this as part of her creative writing course.
Sirens scream while lights, like fireworks of red and white, slice at twinkling skies. Engines slow, firemen race inside for the old couple.
Blanket-wrapped, on the street, they whisper: “Think they’ll figure it out?”
The Chief sadly reports: “The cause is under investigation.”
They nod, squeezing closer, bedroom sheets smoldering.
is an aviator, author, and speaker on ways risk and fear can work to our advantage to dream and explore. She is preparing for suborbital space flight.
I sit high up a tree. Below, branches crackle and woodland creatures
crash frantically through the forest.
Love like a forest fire.
I calmly clutch my tinderbox though the flames have reached
my tree’s roots.
Because once you’d said you’d leap through fire for me.
So, little grasshopper. I’m waiting.
Lisa Falzon has been writing 50-word stories for over ten years now. Her website is micro-fiction.blogspot.ie.
It wasn’t Georges fault and, as usual, it was most unfair. He hadn’t been the only one smoking. The school had been really dry after the hot weather, and full of unnecessary paper.
And he had only struck one match and he hadn’t even flicked it.
Not very much, anyway.
Richard Wheal is a writer and trainee carpenter who live in a forest in Dorset and spends a great deal of time gathering winter fuel.
I lost my favorite mitten this morning.
My dog tried to eat it and choked on it. He couldn’t see very well from all the smoke in the air. My parents wouldn’t have either, but they slept through it.
Now I’m outside, and it’s really cold. I miss my mitten.
Kieran Ivison is a student attending Southeast Missouri State University. He is currently pursuing a Bachelor of Arts in Music Performance and a minor in Mass Communication. He also enjoys writing and randomly browsing the internet.
I could barely see him through the smoke, a wispy silhouette, dancing and swaying to the rhythmless music of the crackling bonfire. His erratic movements transported me to some other place, a far-off, magical land. He was ethereal, mesmerizing, screaming…
“DON’T JUST STAND THERE! MY PANTS ARE ON FIRE!!”
This story was based on the prompt “through the flames” at TypeTrigger.
“No, sir,” said she, sincere as can be, “I never did ignite this fire!”
“Listen well, girl,” answered Inspector Earl, “I half suspect you are a liar!”
“Suspicions of arson?” inquired the parson, obsequious, timid, subdued.
“Indeed,” replied Earl, “though, no, not the girl… The arsonist, sir; it was you!”
This poem was based on the prompt “this fire” at TypeTrigger.
Jim called Sally and said he just wanted to be friends. He told her there was no spark in their relationship.
Sally showed up at Jim’s house later that night. She figured that Jim needed more than just a spark. She lit a match and set his home on fire.
John has interests that range from guitars to the Incredible Hulk. He was born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri and still lives there to this day. You can hear him on the weekly podcast at www.comicbookshowdown.com.
Even from beyond its flickering glow, we could feel the heat of the raging fire, harsh against our alabaster skin. We were drawn closer, forced forward by the spears that pierced us. Our flesh erupted, becoming golden and charred, just before we were shoved in between chocolate and graham crackers.
Maximillian White has been telling stories since he could speak, and writing – often legibly – for almost as long. Check out more of his work at elitefool.com and ridiculousity.net.
He also wrote Saving Daylight.
Once upon a time, the beautiful princess journeyed to the Moon.
It was cold there. Not even the Moon Badgers were warm.
Even after the princess skinned three Moon Badgers and made a coat, she was still cold. So she set her spaceship on fire, and everyone was warm together.