Writing Prompt: The night of the fire changed everything.

Morning all and welcome to the middle of the week. I love the occasional three day weekend, but the week after always trips me up some how. As Wednesday arrives and I realize it is mid week i suddenly realize that the week is running out and I am no where near where I intended to be. I know that from Now until Friday I will end up racing and feeling as though I have to catch up. It happens after every three day weekend but somehow I never get used to it. Possibly because they are spread out through the year and not at regular intervals. Anyway, before I start worrying about what needs to get done this week, let’s get into the morning writing prompt.

You know, writing that actually settled my brain a bit. I’m sure I’ll worry about the schedule later, but for now, I am calmer. And I think I would like to work on this story line some more too, It’s clearly muddled, but once cleaned up a bit I think t could be part of an interesting story. We’ll have to see.

Wednesday, June 2nd: The night of the fire changed everything.

The night of the fire changed everything.  All I had was in the house and all of it was lost.  When I left, I grabbed nothing, saved nothing except myself.  I watched as all my possessions went up in flames.  The firefighters did their best.  I stood with my neighbors as they tried to control the blaze. 

It was clear that it didn’t start with my house, or even the three houses to either side that burned as well as mine.  It was the House on the end of the street that started it.  Looking at the block of houses in the aftermath, it was easier to see the pattern.  The intense heat on the Gilbert House with a slight lessening as the fire raced down the street. 

The Gilbert House stood on the Edge of Elm Street and the final house to be taken out stood on the edge of Oak Street.  All the rest of us were between the two.  Once all of us were evacuated, the firemen concentrated their efforts on keeping the blaze from spreading.  From leaping over the streets ad into other homes.  In this they were successful. 

The word accelerant was used by nearly every professional in the area.  Us amateurs weren’t surprised.  Nothing could burn like that without a little help.  And in addition, there was a strange green tinge to the flames that didn’t seem normal and practically screamed the word chemical. The person to ask would be the owner of the Gilbert House.  However they were the only ones who didn’t make it out of the fire alive.  While all of us manage to escape, even if it was with nothing more than the clothes they  were sleeping in, we did manage to survive. No one came out of the Gilbert House.  They were either not at home when the fire started or everyone inside was lost. 

I was certain someone would be sent to check when it was safe.  And as my insurance would no doubt demand an explanation, I was certain I would find out something. 

Dawn was edging the sky as the fire was finally brought under control.  In the light of day, the damaged looked worse.  What damage the fire hadn’t caused, the water used to control it did.  While the house nearest to Oak had one wall standing where efforts were concentrated on keeping the fire from leapfrogging the street, the water damage was more severe.  Even though the fire was wearing itself out, the Douglas family had just as little survive as the rest of us. 

When all was under control, I was taken through the parts of the house deemed safe enough to look at by the onsite inspectors.  Surprising ly, the fire safe lock box I kept in my front hall closet, in a handy location in case I needed to flee in the event of something like a fire, had minimal damage done to the outside.  I of course hadn’t grabbed it.  The plastic coated handle was melted, bubbled and blackened, but the contents, when the box was pried open, were secure.  So I had my passport and other identifying papers as well as a few other necessary items.

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