The Burning Memory

The Burning Memory
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  • The crackling of the dry shrubs and underbrush is the only sound that can be heard...The mighty roar of the bright flames leaping, ducking, and forcing themselves through the once peaceful, emerald green forest. A monster, with skin as black as coal, accumulates over the state of California, to purge. No cries for help are heard, only the sound of mighty trees engulfed in flames plunging to their deaths, on the barren forest floor.
  • The tranquil woods were commonly filled with the tracing footprints of Milo Hopkins. Every morning, he would wake before the sun and race to meet it at the highest point in the woods. 
  • The weather had been the same as weeks before: dry, hot, and gusty. The wind howled as it sliced through the parched trees. Withered roots pushed through the dusty ground in search for moisture. The baking sun rested high in the sky.
  • Throwing his striped pajama pants onto his makeshift bed, consisting of a heavy camouflage comforter, four mildew stained pillows, and two hand stitched linen-rayon blankets laid on the cold wooden floor. 
  • The deeper he marched into the forest, the louder the song of Cardinals, Blue Jays, and Swallows became. Milo soon began to wonder if the the birds were sending a warning, Danger ahead! He laughed to himself. The bird’s twitters became louder, much louder.
  • Embers and ashes rained from the sky pricking the skin of trees like sewing needles...The heat trapped him like a tidal wave, throwing and pulling him deeper into the flames.
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