Sunday, 3 November 2013

Conflagration by Mark Harris

Apologies for the delay since my last post, I've had a busy week. But today I'm posting something different than an extract from my novel. It's a (very) short story I wrote a fair few years ago. It was supposed to be for a fire-themed competition in a writer's magazine, but I never got around to sending it off. So I'm posting it here instead.

Conflagration

Amber flames lick at the smouldering night sky. I stand alone, watching in stunned silence as my workplace for the past seven months is torn apart in a withering torrent of fire. Nobody can stop it. Nothing can stop it. Not even the cascading floods of rain pouring from the heavens, nor the blistering wind.
It had been a typical Monday morning. I had been working alone on a presentation detailing potential advertisements for the company. We sold insurance. Not my dream job, but it was either that or the queue for dole, and I need all the money I can get to appease the debt collectors, to pay for a child-minder, and to buy Christopher the pinball machine for Christmas he’s been asking for since last January. It was going to be a surprise, but he found the receipt in the backseat of the car. That presentation was my first chance to show Jamieson and the rest of the board that I wasn’t a waste of space, and that I had potential. If they liked any of my ideas enough, I could have been looking at a pay raise. Few times in my life had I been so nervous. At least I’ll never have to finish that presentation now.
I have no idea how the fire spread so quickly, or how I managed to get out alive. Not everybody did. Some might still be in there, trapped within the burning building. Was this my fault? I was warned not to send anything to the second floor printer, but surely something as trivial as that couldn’t have started something like this?
I can’t go back now. It’s far too late for that now. The winter constellations gaze down upon the conflagration, shaming me for my cowardliness. I don’t deserve to live. The stench of burning fills my nostrils, and my eyes water from the choking smoke. Fiery debris soars through the skyline like tiny meteors, leaving behind them trails of incandescence. Salty tears and sweat pour down my smoke blackened cheeks, but my hands are paralyzed to my sides, and they refuse to wipe them away. I can feel the gentle warmth from the inferno, but I do not welcome it against the backdrop of the bitter night. Suddenly, I hear a stifled woman’s cry from within the burning building. Fear floods me. There’s no sign that the fire crews are anywhere nearby, and by the time they get here the structure might not be standing at all. Desperately trying to forget what I heard, I turn away.
It was for Christopher’s sake, that’s why I took the job at the insurance firm. At first I thought I would hate it, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had expected. The people were friendly, and from the first day I was invited to eat lunch with them, as if I’d been working there for years. It was nice. Right now that feels like an eternity ago.
 I can’t go back now. Or can I? I can’t wait here forever, what happened today will perpetually eat away at my insides. I push my rain sodden hair out of my eyes, and take a deep breath of smoke-filled air, breaking into a coughing fit. When it stops, I take a step towards the devouring fire, but then freeze solid, as my confidence falters. Against all of my instincts, I force myself to take another couple of steps. As I feel the intense heat grow, pure fear flows through me. But this time I do not waver, and I break into a stumbling run.
Christopher is my son. At least, I hope he is. I divorced his mother, Andria, a couple of years ago, after I discovered that she was cheating on me for the third time. Each time she swore that it didn’t mean anything, that it would never happen again, but it broke my heart. The only reason we didn’t end it sooner was for Christopher’s sake, but the third time was too much to bear. Andria left the country two days after the papers were signed, on the arm of an investment banker, a man who could afford her, leaving me with both Christopher and almost £10,000 worth of debt, from her incessant internet gambling. I was once told that finalizing the divorce was the best decision I ever made. That could be true, I suppose, but it doesn’t feel that way. I didn’t ask where she went. Somewhere hot and expensive, I imagine. Despite everything, I hope she has a good life, even if I can’t be in it. I really do.
This is it. I venture through the splintering doorway, and into a sea of flames. I am almost overwhelmed by the chaos, but now I move faster than ever. I pull my jacket over my mouth and nose, creating a barrier against the deadly smoke, the soft fabric rubbing against my rough, sweat-ridden skin. Again, I hear a scream from above me, and I set myself in the direction of the cry. My mind is vacant, except for untainted determination. I see a set of wooden stairs, and sprint up them, with adrenaline pumping through my veins, still not believing what I am doing.
Arriving at the peak of the stairs, I glance across the landing, to see a man’s corpse lying in front of me, covered in scorching fire. I recognise him; his cubicle was two away from mine, but I never knew him name. As I watch, the floorboards beneath him gave way, and he topples down onto the ground floor. The piercing scream again stings the smoke infested air, not far away now, but my body is starting to slow down, my reactions delayed.
Summoning up the last of my strength, I launch a mighty kick at a door, and it cracks enough for me to force my way through. Inside, I see a petrified woman, crouched underneath a computer desk. I don’t know her name either; but she’s a member of the board of directors. She’s here to watch my presentation. She wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. I rush towards her, and open my mouth to comfort her, but no words leave my lips. My throat was too dry to utter a single word. I grab the woman’s arm, and usher her towards the window. I try to open it but it only opens so far as to fit an arm through. I take a lamp from a table, and shatter the glass with it. Shimmering shards of glass tumble to the ground as smoke begins to seep through the floorboards. I am unsure whether the woman understands my intentions, but my doubts are dismissed as she clambers onto her feet, and prepares to jump. Her hands are pressed firmly to her stomach, and I realise that she’s pregnant.  Her eyes are half-closed, her movements subdued, and I know she will not last much longer if she stays inside the burning building. I grimace as I see flames creep into the room, peeling at the walls. It will not be long before the room is engulfed in the inferno, along with everything else. I manage a brief smile as I see her hang out the window, and then drop onto the tarmac below.

But now I feel the blackness creep over me.  Flames gently lap at my shins, and I drop to my knees. Toxic smoke fills my lungs, and my breathing deteriorates. I try to crawl towards the window, but in vain. My breathing ceases entirely. As I lie to sleep, I cherish the fact that I saved the woman and her future child from certain death. I never thought the end would be like this. I guess I’ll never be able to get Christopher that pinball machine. The last thing I see is his face, lighting up as he opens it from underneath the Christmas tree. I open my arms wide and he runs to me, but before he can reach me the scene fades to black. So much pain, I can barely feel a thing.

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