I WAS THERE when ashes rained down like rain across the sky.
The smell of smoke was choking, oppressive, hot. I looked up at the sky with wonder as the flames curled and swirled from tree to tree. The flames looked like waves, only they were destructive, relentless, cruel.
Sadly, I walked past our school locked and safe and turned my head towards Mount Lindsay. She was red and aglow.
Dad shouted “pack your bags we need to leave.” I tried to look at everything, every detail like a photo. As we drove towards our friend’s house I cried.