The Hero

“Oh my!” Trembled the elderly woman who lived nearby. They were all at a loss for words, stunned in the wrath of the fire, of course they were. Simple humans, helpless to it. Thankfully, I had arrived. In the distance, I could hear the loud whooping of other firefighters on their way, I had no time to waste.

“Out of my way! I’m a firefighter!” I yelled, pushing past the crowd. I pulled my flannel off of my shoulders and wrapped it around my face to act as a mask. The fire was in a worse state than I thought. The walls were blackened and blistering, the support beams were chewed and crumbled, threatening to crash down at any minute.

I burst through the front door, shoulder first, the fearless hero that I am. The second story of the house had already caved into the living room. A bed was standing, half propped up by the deteriorating ceiling. Under the ironwood bed frame was the man. Pinned under the weight, unable to move and slowly being eaten away by the heat.

“Sir, Sir! Are you okay?” I muffled through my flannel. His eyes were glazed, beyond fear, and into despair. Those eyes didn’t flicker with hope like I wanted them to. They had already given up. He did not answer. He was clearly not okay. How terrible for the fire to do such a destructive thing.

He summoned his remaining strength to point. A red hot finger trembled towards his wife. Unconscious to the side, but rather unscathed by the fire, the smoke got to her, it would seem. I nod to the man, and he nearly smiled, relieved that in his worst moments, I had come as the savior of his wife and future child.

I scooped her up, shook her awake. She groggily looked up at me.

“I’m a firefighter,” I told her, “you’re going to be okay.” And there it was, those empty eyes cleared like weak clouds on a windy day. She looked up at me, her eyes flickered. Hope.

I bound out of the house. Walls and ceiling disintegrating at my rear. I lunged through the entrance as the building was lost, but a life was saved.

The crowd of people cheered me on as I came rushing out. Finally, the recognition I deserve. As I exited, other firefighters were pulling up with hoses, blasting the already scorched home. Their goal now was to stop the spread. My heroic duty was done, the other firefighters gave her a blanket and water for her parched throat. Soon an ambulance would be on the way to bring her back to vitality.

She started to sob. Hiccups broke up weeping for her husband. She was hysterical. I thought it was absurd. She was just saved by me. She should be grateful, thanking me on her knees. My anger was subdued as the elderly woman came to me with trembling fingers, “you-you’re a hero, young man.”

A smirk pulled at the edge of my mouth; yes I am. Maybe I’ll save you next…

I turned and watched the house burn.

—

Fire. Oh, the beautiful flames.

The raw, untamed rage of the Gods. Who can stand in the way of its destructive path?

Me.

Firefighter, Phillip Greene.

I am wrath, I am hope, I am the Hero.