Stormpirate
Sailing the stormy seas..
- Joined
- Sep 8, 2006
- Messages
- 158
Part three:
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Ethan fell to his hands and knees. Blood and dirt covered his exposed skin, and his shirt was ripped. He gasped, breathing hard, as the trees turned and started towards me, their roots pulling them along and reaching out for me. “Get them to the open yard,” Ethan panted. “Set fire to them there.”
And now I was bait.
I ran out to the open yard. The trees let out roars of fury and frustration and followed me. They moved quicker than I felt they had a right to, and it wasn’t an easy jog to the open yard. I glanced up and saw the woman still standing in the window, watching.
Running to the middle of the front yard, I turned around and watched the huge trees coming for me. Their roots left huge gouges in the ground. Their branches reached for me, and I shrank back from the sight. Then it hit me.
What was I supposed to start the fire with?
Was the petroleum sensitive to sunlight? Perhaps it would catch fire… But no, the sun shone fully down on the scene, and while the trunks glistened yellowish and wet where I had smeared the petroleum, that was all. No sparks, no flames, no burning of the evil trees. Dammit! Why the hell didn’t I smoke? I had no lighter. My breath hitched in alarm as the trees grew closer. My feet began moving backwards of their own accord; apparently, their survival instinct was faster than my brain’s. I stepped in an indentation in the yard and fell backwards, landing on my back in the grass. As I lay there, watching the trees tower over me, my view of the sun blocked out by their shadows, I wondered who would finish the article. I turned my head and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see what was coming.
My ears filled with a roaring sound, and a wave of heat washed over my face. The roars this time weren’t filled with fury and frustration, but instead surprise and pain. I dared to open my eyes a bit; a wall of flame stood before me. Paul stood a bit off to one side, a fire starter in one hand. The trees writhed in agony, their branches whipping around as they sought to put out the flames. Sap sparked and popped as the flames hit deep pockets. Smaller fires had started on the lawn. A burning blob of either sap or petroleum landed on my jeans. Without thinking, I frantically beat at the fire with my hands, trying to get it off. Hands grabbed me beneath my arms and pulled me away from the fire. The fire extinguished, and I saw a small hole in the denim. There was a faint pink spot on my shin where the fire had just started to burn through my jeans.
Ethan pulled me away, towards the street and the truck, as the trees continued to burn. The fire engulfed them completely. He then ran towards the front of the house where the hose and faucet were located. He stood ready with the hose on full power, prepared if the fire started to spread further on the yard or towards the house. The fire, however, had vanquished the huge brutes. They collapsed upon themselves, their last cries sounding confused. Finally, nothing remained but a pile of ash and half-burnt pieces of wood. It appeared nothing more than the remains of a large bonfire. I walked slowly up to the pile, choking a bit on the smoke as the wind blew it my way, and toed a piece of root. In a last spasm, it tried to close around my shoe, but gave one final shudder and lay still.
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The rest of the story just goes into what happens afterwards. I thank everyone who's read it, and thank everyone who's commented. It's really nice to have someone other than my husband read my writing and give an actual objective opinion!
------------------------
Ethan fell to his hands and knees. Blood and dirt covered his exposed skin, and his shirt was ripped. He gasped, breathing hard, as the trees turned and started towards me, their roots pulling them along and reaching out for me. “Get them to the open yard,” Ethan panted. “Set fire to them there.”
And now I was bait.
I ran out to the open yard. The trees let out roars of fury and frustration and followed me. They moved quicker than I felt they had a right to, and it wasn’t an easy jog to the open yard. I glanced up and saw the woman still standing in the window, watching.
Running to the middle of the front yard, I turned around and watched the huge trees coming for me. Their roots left huge gouges in the ground. Their branches reached for me, and I shrank back from the sight. Then it hit me.
What was I supposed to start the fire with?
Was the petroleum sensitive to sunlight? Perhaps it would catch fire… But no, the sun shone fully down on the scene, and while the trunks glistened yellowish and wet where I had smeared the petroleum, that was all. No sparks, no flames, no burning of the evil trees. Dammit! Why the hell didn’t I smoke? I had no lighter. My breath hitched in alarm as the trees grew closer. My feet began moving backwards of their own accord; apparently, their survival instinct was faster than my brain’s. I stepped in an indentation in the yard and fell backwards, landing on my back in the grass. As I lay there, watching the trees tower over me, my view of the sun blocked out by their shadows, I wondered who would finish the article. I turned my head and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see what was coming.
My ears filled with a roaring sound, and a wave of heat washed over my face. The roars this time weren’t filled with fury and frustration, but instead surprise and pain. I dared to open my eyes a bit; a wall of flame stood before me. Paul stood a bit off to one side, a fire starter in one hand. The trees writhed in agony, their branches whipping around as they sought to put out the flames. Sap sparked and popped as the flames hit deep pockets. Smaller fires had started on the lawn. A burning blob of either sap or petroleum landed on my jeans. Without thinking, I frantically beat at the fire with my hands, trying to get it off. Hands grabbed me beneath my arms and pulled me away from the fire. The fire extinguished, and I saw a small hole in the denim. There was a faint pink spot on my shin where the fire had just started to burn through my jeans.
Ethan pulled me away, towards the street and the truck, as the trees continued to burn. The fire engulfed them completely. He then ran towards the front of the house where the hose and faucet were located. He stood ready with the hose on full power, prepared if the fire started to spread further on the yard or towards the house. The fire, however, had vanquished the huge brutes. They collapsed upon themselves, their last cries sounding confused. Finally, nothing remained but a pile of ash and half-burnt pieces of wood. It appeared nothing more than the remains of a large bonfire. I walked slowly up to the pile, choking a bit on the smoke as the wind blew it my way, and toed a piece of root. In a last spasm, it tried to close around my shoe, but gave one final shudder and lay still.
--------------------------------------
The rest of the story just goes into what happens afterwards. I thank everyone who's read it, and thank everyone who's commented. It's really nice to have someone other than my husband read my writing and give an actual objective opinion!
