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For over a month water bombers flew through the acrid haze. The old-timers said it was the worst fire season of their memory. Black clouds forming in the West were the only hope of a reprieve. Their empty promises brought nothing but more lightning strikes to bolster the fire stats. Then the wind switched direction, blowing from the East. According to the old boys, that meant moisture was coming soon. Looking east on the morning it rained, the colours of fire silhouetted the ridge, like molten lava wrestling with the skyline. How could a sunrise be so cruel?
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Carrot Ranch - August 6, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about molten lava. It can be real-time, such as a volcanic event or the result of one in the geologic timeline. Or, think about making the prompt into a metaphor of heat. What is so hot? Go where the prompt leads!
8/10/2020 10:25:46 pm
Thanks D. I am happy to say that on the morning this picture was taken, there was no fires. Although the sunrise's glow certainly reminded me of it.
8/11/2020 07:42:44 pm
Fire season is not one I miss, living in Michigan now. I still recall the awe of your Canadian Bombardiers, pulling water into their bellies from Lake Pend Oreille.
8/21/2020 05:21:55 pm
It is a season all on its own, and those who risk their lives to fight the inferno have my deepest respect.
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99 WORDS A page to share creativity in 99 words - no more and no less.