New Year’s Flames

I stood on my balcony and watched the fire fighters packing away their hoses and packing up their trucks, one team was still dampening down, but there was no need for the other crews. What was left of the church still smouldered but there were no flames now, just smoke and steam and senseless destruction.

All through the night the fire fighters had been fighting hard to control the fire, the wind had whipped the flames into the air, making them dance like giant candles in a draughty room. Water and foam had seemed such weak adversaries for such a strong force but eventually you could see the momentum changing. Such was the force of the flames that despite the freezing temperature I had been on the balcony in jeans and a T-shirt for most of the night but now the flames were gone I was wearing my big coat and clutching a hot cup of tea.

The church had stood in the middle of a square with flats all around, the grassy park in front of it had been the launch pad for a million fireworks on this New Year’s Eve, it was an accident waiting to happen, an accident that finally did happen.

The firework had burst through the glass window of the church and then discharged its sparkle. The wooden pews had proved a tinderbox, willing fuel for the fire. Then it all happened so quickly, leaping flames, blaring sirens, screams, shouts and flashing blue lights.

Now it was all but over, I decided, like the fire crews, that enough was enough, it was time to get some sleep. A tragic accident they would say, a rogue firework, a crying shame.  I closed my eyes and smiled, I knew differently and I also knew that I would never be woken up by those bells again.